Feral Bindings
by Ambrelle Shirak
Summary: When a trip to a strange carnival results in the discovery of a new mutant, the team has no clue what may come. LoganOC
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own Carnal. All other characters are owned by Marvel Comics. Carnal's story arc begins after Season 3's episode "Recovery."

When the Carnival Comes to Town 

The flyers had been up for weeks, plastered all over Bayville. They hung from telephone poles, and were plastered on bus shelters. And they all exclaimed the same thing, in bright garish letters that seemed to leap right off the page and into your eyes.

TWO DAYS ONLY!

SEPTEMBER 18th and 19th!

DON'T MISS YOUR CHANCE!

See the amazing acrobats!

Witness the beauty of a LIVING mermaid!

Stare in awe of the beauty and the ferocity of

CARNAL, the only Wolf-Girl alive!

Rahne tore down a third poster, crumpling it up in her hands. "Only Wolf-Gahl, bah! Ah'll show her! Wot kindo' name is Carnal, anyhoo?" The two that strode beside the feisty Scottish lass cast sidelong glances at her. She only grew increasingly hard to understand when she was upset. And obviously the proclamation on the poster had greatly offended her dignity.

And still, Bobby and Jubilee could only chuckle at her heated one-sided conversation. They both knew very well that Rahne could become an imposing creature of the lupine persuasion when she wanted to, so they had nothing to argue about.

"Come on," Bobby endeavored to change the subject. "Lets get something to eat! Miss Munroe will be drilling us about homework soon anyways!"

Carelessly, Rahne paused by the open door, and glanced at the crumpled paper in her hands. With a snort of derision, she tossed it over her shoulder, where it bounced and rolled, and landing unceremoniously beneath a short spruce.

_Logan._

The addressee grunted in response to the cool voice echoing within his head. His arms were at full extension, the barbell gripped between sweaty palms. He could feel every muscle in his chest tighten and flex, taught with effort. Sweat ran in ever-growing sparkling drops down his arms. He held the weight aloft for a count of twenty before the calm voice ever so gently reminded him of its presence.

_Logan. I would like to speak with you when you are finished._

He grunted again, replacing the bar and sliding out from beneath it. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, Prof, I hear you." He grabbed his towel from the end of the bench, and grumbling about living with telepaths, he forced his way out of the gym, and up the stairs.

Professor Xavier was, as he always seemed to be, in his study, awaiting Logan with an amused smile upon his features. "You could have cleaned up first," Charles mused lightly, raising an eyebrow at Logan's shirtless carelessness.

Logan gave half a shrug, causing his impressive chest to ripple with the movement. "It sounded urgent," came the laconic response. Logan didn't even bother to sit down; he waited, feet shoulder-width apart, while he toweled off his neck and chest. As Logan scrubbed a hand through his short, black hair, Xavier wheeled his chair slightly closer.

"I want you to look at this," he offered, holding up a rumpled piece of paper.

Logan accepted it, throwing his towel over his shoulder. He proceeded to read with a puzzled expression. "So? Carnival Atlantis? What's so important about this?"

Xavier was disappointed. He had hoped that Logan would pick up on the strangeness in the last few lines. Xavier refused to take it back, instead allowing the feral to keep it. "I want you to take the children there."

"What? Babysit?"

"Chaperone, actually." Xavier smiled, and couldn't help but chuckle. "A few of them have expressed interest to me in attending. Ororo and myself would go, but unfortunately we have a meeting with the School Board at noon on Saturday."

Logan managed to stifle a groan. "Who am I taking?"

"Jean, Scott, and Kurt, in the least. Perhaps even Sam and Roberto."

Logan could just imagine a day with the five… all alone… surrounded by carnival freaks. It was almost too much for him to take. "Okay, okay… I don't have a choice, do I?"

Xavier smiled secretly. _Not in the least._

What had started out as an outing of five, had turned into a gaggle of bouncing kids. Kurt brought his girlfriend, Amanda Sefton. Rahne, Bobby and Kitty had all decided that they wanted in on the action. And at the last minute, as everyone was loading into the van, Jubilation Lee decided that she too, wanted to have some fun on a Saturday afternoon.

Logan could already feel the headache just beginning to develop as he turned the engine over. The kids all laughed and joked, entertaining themselves as only teens can. Amanda and Kurt held hands, only releasing so Kurt could fuss over his image projector. In the rear view mirror, they all looked so normal, and happy. Sometimes, just sometimes, Logan felt as if Xavier's dreams could really come true. He nodded slightly to himself as Kurt blushed in response to a quick comment by his human girlfriend.

Mercifully, the drive was quick and short. He didn't have to listen to Jubilee singing along with the radio for very long at all. It must have looked like a clown car as the kids piled out into the parking lot. "Remember, stay in groups, or at least… pairs. Contact Jean if you get lost, or… if anything comes up." With the way the teens were watching him, it was as if his word was the Word of God. He hated it when they watched him so intently.

With a grunt, he spun on his heel and stalked towards the gate. After a few seconds, he paused, realizing that none of the kids were following him. Glancing back, he followed their gaze to find out why. They were faced with a completely vacant lot, with the exception of the brightly smiling clown at the rickety shack in the center. Trash littered the scenery, blowing used napkins across the tops of Logan's boots. His lip curled, as the hairs on his arms raised in warning.

"I don't like this," he growled softly.

"Vhat do ve do?" Kurt asked, curiosity glinting dangerously in his eyes.

Jean was staring at the blank lot, with an expression of awe and shock. "Mr. Logan?" she began softly. "This is incredible! We have to go in there!"

"Why?"

"Because… the owner must be a mutant!" Jean was breathless, as if she could see something that the others could not.

Kurt grinned at Amanda, and bounded forward, pulling the hapless girl along with him. With a snarl, Logan burst into motion, easily keeping up. Kurt pulled to an abrupt stop as the Clown at the entrance leant down to greet them all.

"Welcome, one and all! Step right through these gates to see a wondrous world of fantasy, fear and awe! Step this way and be transported to the amazing underwater city of Atlantis! Home of the Half-Wolf, Half-Human!"

Rahne could be heard audibly clearing her throat, until someone nudged her in the ribs harshly. With a bitten off curse, Rahne glared about her, as if she didn't know the perpetrator. Logan made a quick head count, and gave them all a stern reminder, glaring at each of them in turn. Interesting, standing this close, Logan could almost smell the fairway fries, and hear the tinkling of the carousel over the din of people talking. With a deep breath, he handed over the cash, paying fare for one adult and 11 youngsters.

Then two by two, the kids stepped through the gates… and vanished into thin air.

The fairway was lit with sparkling lights in every shade of the spectrum. The heavy scent of fairway food hung in the air like a shroud lay over the bright, clean avenues. Laughter surrounded them, and throngs of people brushed by the stunned pair. Bells and whistles signaled a winner at one of the booths, and a young couple walked away clutching a giant stuffed cat between them.

Jean nearly collapsed from the sudden inundation of energies. Scott barely had time to catch her as she swooned against him. Frantically, he looked around for the others, but not only was there no sign of his fellow students: there was no sign of the entrance either! The paved avenue stretched on before and behind them.

"Jean?"

"I'm fine, Scott." She replied as she pushed his arms away. With a guilty glance around, she composed herself quickly and quietly. For a moment, she seemed distant, until she smiled, and nodded. "The others are fine." She sighed softly. "Just as confused as we are, but fine."

"Where are they?"

"Scattered around…" Jean mused quietly. She rolled her shoulders, and fluffed her hair after a moment. Her eyes just happened to glance up. "My God…" she breathed, reaching out to Scott for support once more. "Look!"

High overhead, where the sun should have been shining brilliantly, a thin, green, filtered orb wavered in and out of existence. As they watched, a giant shadow moved effortlessly across the light. As the silhouette became clear, Jean gasped aloud.

"We're under water!" The whale's shadow passed quickly, and left the rippling, weak sunlight filtering into the gigantic glass dome.

Logan's stomach churned like a top when he finally opened his eyes. He hated getting teleported! It screwed with the very sensitive inner ear, and had, counting this time, made him want to double over and puke. He scowled listening to Jean's report, and growled audibly as she told him that she couldn't reach the Professor. With a deep breath, he steadied himself, and forced himself silent.

The damp air was filled with the scent of ocean, decay and humanity. No entrance, no exit… the people seemed faceless, cheerful and yet stiff. The prickling sensation grew stronger as he looked around. He could hear some of the kids, Jubilee, Sam and Berto from the sounds of the maniacal giggling. They were waiting in line at a roller coaster, Jubes bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Thoughtfully, he looked around, and proceeded to move to the nearest wall. It was definitely a glass dome that covered them all, but at the bottom of the ocean? He wasn't sure how much he believed that. Scowling he tapped the glass with his finger as if trying to judge how thick it was. With a shrug, he turned to his left, and began to follow the sweeping arc around the perimeter of the carnival.

A towering Big Top was at the center of the huge dome, all the avenues, five total, led up to it. Vendors, food and souvenirs alike, were crammed in like sardines. And everyone seemed happy, which probably worried Logan the most. He looked up and down the fairways, taking count of his charges. In twos and threes he accounted for them all.

Relieved, he headed for the Big Top, seeking out the owner. Jean claimed to know that he too was a mutant. Looking around, Logan pondered just what could be up. Everything seemed in place, yet it all felt so wrong to him. He struggled to stay focused between all the flashing lights and pulsing sirens. So intent was he on ignoring the normality of a carnival that he missed the presence of three clowns, paying him a little too much attention.

"Are you not having fun?" piped the garishly colored face bobbing in front of him. "Everyone in Atlantis has fun!"

Logan grunted. The clown was hued in greens and yellows, topped with a hideous crepe paper hat. The clown stepped forward, as Logan stepped back.

"Surely, we can make him laugh!" another voice, this one lilting and soprano cooed. The she-clown was dressed as an opera singer. Huge bow-lips were painted upon her pancake-white face, and she was even complete with a mole upon the swell of her enormous bosom.

"But if not, what then?" the third speaker was a _tragedos_, tattered and torn, his clothing was all too large. His face was painted shabbily, the white and black running together into an ash gray. Logan spun to face each of them in turn, but they moved around him constantly, ringing him as if he were a maypole.

"Then," the first piping clown giggled. "We show him the Side Show!"

"Ooooh," the other two purred in concert. "The Side Show!"

"I dunno who you think you are, but I'm not stickin' 'round to find out!" Logan feinted right, but dodged left, trying to dive between the opera star and the _tragedos_.

"Ah-ah-aaah!" She scolded. Before Logan knew it, he had collided with the impressive tracts of land. Her hands closed tightly around his arms, spinning him to face the other two clowns.

"Perhaps he likes impressions," the _tragedos_ mused, in a voice like Drew Carey's.

"Or balloon animals!" The head clown blew a long balloon up and began to twist it.

"Or jokes!" The singer gleefully quipped. Logan could feel every movement of her broad chest as she breathed.

Logan growled under his breath, squirming in the grip of the huge woman. "Let me go!" he snarled aloud, breaking the parlay between the clowns.

The three looked at him, and then exchanged glances. "Time for the Side Show!" The lead clown let out a whoop of joy, which was immediately echoed by the other two. Far and wide, up and down the fairways, Logan could hear the cry being taken up, like a chant.

"Side Show! Side Show!"

The clowns proceeded to drag Logan up the center of the fairway. For being a well-endowed female, the opera singer was incredibly strong… almost too strong. He cast a warning glare at the students. If any of them tried to help him, he would be irate. He watched helplessly as the kids were dragged into the mob that followed the three clowns up the fairway. Swept away by the tide of humanity, Logan soon lost sight of them all.

_What's going on?_ Jean's inquiry sounded within his mind. Logan shook his head, and refused to answer. He felt her presence move on as soon as she didn't get an answer from him. Hopefully, Scott would be smart enough to gather the students together. He didn't have a very good feeling about this Side Show. The Big Top was their destination, wrapping around the front half of the colorful tent was a wooden platform. The platform was segregated from the crowd by a thick wire fence, topped with barbed wire. Logan's hopes fell.

The lead clown bounced up on stage, leaving the other two to watch over Logan. As he held his hands above his head, the crowd fell silent.

"Come one, come all! Join me in welcoming our ringmaster! Our leader! The illustrious! The incomparable! VINCINI!"

The crowd burst into applause, roared to life from complete stillness. The lead clown snickered as he jumped off the wire caging, landing in the muck right in front of Logan. The clown smiled, something wicked, and taunting lurked behind his painted eyes.

_We're right behind you_, Jean's voice whispered into his mind. She showed him a brief vision of what it looked like from behind. Logan was aghast to realize just how enormously large the she-clown was. The kids were close, so close that Logan could have turned his head and been able to look Jean right in the eyes. But then they would be liable to these evil clowns.

_I hate clowns._ He thought at Jean. He allowed himself the slightest smile as she giggled in response.

Suddenly, the girls behind him gasped aloud. Vincini had taken the stage, behind the wire fence. Logan pondered the short stature of the ringmaster, the small hands that held a riding crop, and the baby-like face that peered at him from beneath the rim of a top hat. Vincini was a child! Eight years old, perhaps at the greatest. Logan could feel himself trembling with rage, well, until the opera clown patted his head like he was a puppy.

"Just watch," she cooed softly, squeezing Logan tightly. "You'll enjoy this!"

She was making it hard for him to breathe, squeezing his ribcage so tightly that he could almost feel the adamantium bones rubbing together. He knew they wouldn't break, but his ligaments and tendons were unfortunately not part of the equation. The crowd _ooh_ed, and _ahh_ed, and with each successive sound, the she-clowns grip got tighter and tighter. The purported mermaid, Logan figured out between gasping breaths, was nothing more than a woman wearing, of all things, a fish's head. Granted the beautiful legs were distracting, and not at all what most people thought of when 'mermaid' was mentioned, Logan could have cared less if it were dead.

A bearded woman, a living illustration, a man masquerading as a lizard, all of the traditional side show freaks were paraded before him. His eyes were watering with the effort of breathing when, suddenly, the she-clown released him long enough to slam her hands together in thunderous applause. All the while, the young Vincini never even uttered a word. He raised his hands, calling for silence. The crowd automatically obeyed. Not even a sniffle or cough was heard to break the eerie stillness, even Logan quieted his ragged breathing, as he tried to edge away from the she-clown's massive arms.

_And now, what you've all been waiting for!_ The voice! It echoed in their heads! A telepath! Jean nearly jumped at the conclusion, her green eyes startling against the sudden pallor of her face. _Please, be very quiet… she is a vicious man-slaughtering killer! Ladies and gentlemen, CARNAL, the beast girl!_

A low snarl filled the air as a pair of giant hands lifted the tent flap. On one side, gripping a long metal pole was the bearded lady; on the other, the strong man held a similar contraption. Between them, held nearly six feet away from either, was the creature that Vincini called Carnal.

She was small and compact, covered in grime and dirt. Her skin ranged in shade from clay gray to a warm flesh tone. Her hair was dark, matted with dirt and manure. Dried blood clung to her scalp, and discolored her lips at the corner. Those lips were drawn back, the snarl issuing from her throat. Her canines protruded, and her fingers ended in nasty claws, chipped and broken by years of abuse. Logan did not wince at the scars that riddled her body; she was offered no dignity, nor did she seem to care. She was naked, except for dirt, and the collar that attached her to her 'trainers'.

_Witness the awesome power! Bolt?_

Vincini had turned to glance at the strong man. He grinned slightly, and seemed to close his eyes, concentrating. A jolt of electricity traveled down the metal rod, and ripped through the captive's body. She screamed in agony, the sound wholly inhuman and dripping with terror. Logan's anger turned to awe as she began to change before his eyes.

He had witnessed something like it before… after all Rahne's body would twist, as she becomes a wolf. But this one… this was different. Carnal's body did not change, she did not grow fur; or alter her hands into paws. Quiet simply, her anatomy changed. Certain bones elongated, certain muscles bulked out, allowing her to shift her position, to stand upright on legs that had become massively muscular. Her chest barreled, the already sinewy form losing most all traces of body fat, and breasts. She squatted like a bear; yes, Logan agreed with himself. A bear she had become… not necessarily in shape, but in function. She roared suddenly, a heartbreaking sound that was filled with pain and anger.

Rearing back, she lifted the strong man and bearded lady off their feet, flinging them hard into the wire fence. She advanced on Vincini, her yellow-gold eyes tinged red with fury. The little boy calmly reached beneath his ringmaster's cape, and withdrew a stout wand. With a flick, he knocked the terrified feral over, from six feet away.

**_BZZAAAP_!** Summers had seen enough. His force beam had torn a hole through the chain fence, and pulverized the small wand into tiny shards. Kurt had already left behind the stench of brimstone and sulfur as he teleported out. Vincini tried to duck as the corresponding BAMF echoed off the stage around him.

"Guten tag!" Kurt chirruped with a devilish grin. He balled his fist, and took his best shot…

Only to find his hand pass right through the boy. A cackle surrounded him, and faded, but the angry snarling did not abate. Kurt turned, eyes widening at the sight of the feral mutant towering over him. His first instinct was to port, but where to? He couldn't form a coherent thought in his mind.

The crowd cheered, thinking perhaps that this was all part of the show. Jubilee ran up to the fence, and threw fireworks and pyrotechnics in the face of the feral. Rahne was halfway through her transformation, when Bobby knocked her out of the way. The she-clown was spinning, spreading her arms wide in an attempt to knock anyone and everyone down. Flattened by the clown, the two of them rolled clear, only to be fenced in by dozens of feet. The feral continued to bear down upon Kurt.

SKINKT! Logan ignored the eruption of pain that his claws caused; he could only think of how to rescue the terrified elf. The wire fence was no barrier, and he leapt through the hole he so expertly excised. As Logan's shadow fell over Kurt, he heard the teen gain his composure. There was a tense moment as Logan squared up against the feral.

Her eyes were amber, split horizontally with jet-black pupils. Those pupils widened for a moment, adjusting to the changing lights. She dropped down to all fours, and tightened her hands. The claws that had sprouted from her fingertips sunk into the wooden stage, splintering the board as she pulled up. Logan found his footing compromised, and stumbled backwards. Kurt bamfed just as the delicate workings of Logan's balance gave way. Landing hard on his back, he wasn't prepared for Carnal's pounce. She landed atop him like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind right out of his lungs.

Scarlet blood splattered across the wooden planks as her talons dug deeply into his shoulders. Her roar of fury echoed his roar of pain. Her anger was born out of mortal fear; Logan could appreciate that even understand it. But he refused to let the kids be put in danger. Behind him, he could hear Scott taking charge.

"Group on me! We need to find the ringmaster!" The boy never seemed more at home than when leading a team. Logan knew he didn't have to worry about the kids; they were in good hands.

"I'm not leaving Logan!" Jean cried. About the same moment, Carnal's body was enveloped. The telekinetic has frozen her, holding her still with the force of her mind.

Logan snarled. "GO!" He returned his claws to their housing on his forearms. Jean gave a cry as Scott pulled her away, putting distance between the stage and themselves. "Follow the damned clowns!" Logan cried as he caught sight of the giant she-clown disappearing into the Big Top. He closed his hands around Carnal's wrists, and pushed.

The beast-girl, shocked to find her motility returned so suddenly, hesitated for a split second. Logan's strength counteracted her own, and she bent backwards in his grip. Impossibly flexible, Logan could feel her skeletal and muscular structure altering underneath his grip. As he got to his feet, he could feel the pressure from her tendons and muscles again, bulking out beneath his hands. She snarled in his face, and attempted to bite at his nose. Logan brought his skull down, to crack loudly into hers.

Blood immediately gushed onto her face, but almost as instantaneously stopped. Logan was transfixed with horror as her nose changed shape, widening and flattening, the tip turning down like the black nose of a wolf. He chuckled.

"Oh, so you heal on the fly too?"

"Through there!" Bobby pointed between two giant beams, the two main supports of the single-spired Big Top. "She went that way!"

"But!" Jubilee chimed in. "The sad clown went that way!" She pointed off to the east.

"It's a DOME, people!" Scott reminded them. "It's not like they can go much of anywhere! Jean?"

She had touched his arm, resting her hand with feather-lightness. "The ringmaster is laughing at us. He wants us to join his circus."

"Which way is he, Jean?" Scot pressed gently, as the other students crowded around them. "Where are his thoughts coming from?"

"All over," she was pained, wincing as she was trying to find her 'off' switch. "Everywhere!"

"Vell," Kurt mused, looking around at his surroundings. "If he is everyvhere, then… ve destroy everything…. _Ja_?"

Behind his sunglasses, Scott blinked, looking astonished while still seeming to be perfectly collected. The implications boggled his mind. An omnipotent telepath… Surely, he couldn't be. There had to be a catch to this, something that they were missing. Kurt was already leading Amanda to someplace safe, while she was protesting against being separated from him for so long. Jean was reeling, having finally blocked out the sea of panicked thoughts. Scott steadied her with a hand on her arm.

"Alright, Sam, Berto, Rahne… I think it's time to bring the Big Top down." Scott grinned grimly. "You three take the Fairway; Bobby, Kitty, Jubes, I want you three on the Vendors. Kurt, Jean and I will check out the Big Top."

Scott shone in leadership, his back straightened, his head was held high. Even his voice seemed deeper, authoritative, but lacking the boyish charm that Jean warmed right up to. She instantly found herself missing Scott, and regretting Cyclops. But there wasn't any time to waste; Cyclops didn't even allow himself the beam with pride as the youngsters ran out into the crowd.

The kids fell to their tasks with glee. Breaking everything, burning wood, shooing away all of those people who had not yet made it to the edges of the dome, they pillaged like pirates. With every shattered crossbeam, with every shorted fuse, there seemed to be something… different… about the Carnival.

No one was watching the entrance of the Big Top. All eyes were locked upon Wolverine and Carnal grappling in a life-or-death struggle on the wooden stage. Jean, Cyclops, and NightCrawler all found their way into the tent without a problem. Once inside, they took long minutes for their eyes to adjust to the dimness. Jean gasped, once she could see, and turned quickly to Scott, hiding her face from the sight. Kurt swore in German, muttering under his breath a string of oaths unbecoming to a teenager.

Cyclops eyed the surroundings with stoic calm. Surrounding them were all cages, stacked atop each other, toppled haphazardly into jumbles, every one of them held a creature within. Some did not move to acknowledge the intruders, while others howled in agony, or begged for release. More still did not breathe any longer, stone dead beneath the years of carnival life. One cage remained empty, a cage that was as filthy as the occupant. Bones littered the floor, mice and rats scurried about in the filth. Even the arm of a dead sideshow freak hung in the cage, and had been picked clean of flesh.

Cyclops herded them past it all, ignoring the calls for help, which quickly turned into cries of hatred. He kept his eyes forward, focused on the smaller tent that had been erected in the center of the mess. With no visible entrance, they lifted up the edge of the fabric and peered into the darkness. Nothing: silence and darkness, except for the occasional snarl of the beasts in the cages. Kurt blinked, glanced at Jean and Cyclops. Jean was concentrating.

"There's something in there," she whispered, breaking the odd silence. The darkness seemed to shimmer the longer she watched it, as if there was something within struggling to maintain control. The sense of _otherness_ was complete within, as if the missing pieces of the rest of the carnival were all contained within the dark shadows of the tiny tent.

Cyclops edged further in, hoping that the ambient glow of his eyes behind his ruby visor would shed some extra light. Even the light seemed to be sucked in by the source of Jean uneasiness. She frowned slightly, as NightCrawler fidgeted beside her, twirling his hair around one of his tridactyl fingers. Somewhere outside the tent, the mermaid wailed in sorrow, causing NightCrawler to jump, bumping into Jean.

Jean stumbled, and lost her concentration. Once her guard was down, that, unfortunately, was when the fun began. The darkness wavered; shivered with a chill wind. It seemed to fold in upon itself, closing up like a little box, until the interior of the tiny tent was no longer shrouded in darkness.

_Are you shocked?_

Shocked was putting it mildly…

Jean stepped forward, bravest of them all. She placed her hand lightly upon the glass case. The figure within stirred, and rotated, opening large luminous eyes. Machines whirred and clanked, keeping the creature alive, keeping the viscous liquid it lived within oxygenated. Vestigial legs kicked weakly in the substance, and tiny webbed hands pressed against the glass case, directly against Jean's palms.

"What are you?" Jean asked quietly, ignoring the frightened sounds issuing from NightCrawler's and Cyclops' mouths.

_I am like you._ The things bulbous head rotated slightly so it's wide eyes could take in all three intruders. _Why do you destroy my sanctuary?_

"Because there are people here being mistreated; people trapped within the dome!" Cyclops chimed in, his ideals being threatened.

_You would leave me here alone! Trapped, without company!_

"Well, uh…" Cyclops floundered, and looked to Jean for support.

"We will only do what is best for the people you have trapped here in your carnival." Jean whispered. "If they wish to remain here, then they can. But those that wish to leave, must be offered that choice." She bit her lip, wishing she could ask the question that bugged her most.

_How did I get here? You do not want to know. The clowns are loyal; they are the ones that built this for me. They will surely stay with me._

"You must offer the chance to everyone." Cyclops answered. Jean was telling the others to stop destroying things. She shied away from Wolverine's mind as his was a blank sheet of fury.

The creature within the tank gave a soft mental sigh. _I was human once. I know what it was like to fear and love, and hate. I hate all of you. Every last one of you._

NightCrawler had edged over to the apparatus that shivered and sighed, and pumped air into the tiny liquid-filled chamber. "How do you get pover to this thing?" He inquired, reaching out for knobs and dials.

_DON'T TOUCH THAT!_ The thing within the case threw itself towards him. NightCrawler bamfed away, reappearing behind Cyclops. _Don't touch that. I'll let them out… just don't touch that!_

The creature closed its eyes, and brought its tiny webbed hands to its temples. A wave of vertigo swept the room. Jean doubled over, and had almost fallen if Cyclops had not jumped forward to support her.

Doors opened everywhere. Gates with images of freedom beyond them. As one entity, seas of people moved towards the gates, abandoning the joyous life of a carnival for the freedom of home. The clowns were shoved out of the way, as people fought for the openings, struggled to leave. Jubes pointed, grinning. She could see the Van just outside one of the gates. She rushed forward, and placed her hand on the side of the fence, as if the gate would vanish before her very eyes.

"We've gotta get the others!" she shouted over the din at Bobby, who kept trying to direct traffic around the trio. Finally, he ground his teeth and spread his fingers.

Within a few moments, twin sheets of ice had formed, diverting the terrified flow around them.

Kitty frowned. "Wait here." She was gone before Bobby could open his mouth, phasing through the ice as though it were air.

"I hate it when she does that," he sighed, kicking at a rock. "So what now? We just wait?"

Jubilee's dark eyes smiled. "Why wait?" Her hands seemed to glitter after a moment, and she threw her arms high into the air. A trio of fireworks exploded overhead, flashing light and sound in a sparkling conflagration. Jubes had sent up her patented distress call, using the handiest flare gun of all… her mutant power.

Kitty chuckled to herself as she phased through the crowd. There was nothing she could do about being seen, but with the panicking state of the crowds, she really didn't expect to be noticed all that much. The others would definitely see Jubilee's signal; she really hoped Bobby would be putting out the few fires some of the sparks had set off. The only one she was really worried about was Wolverine. If he slipped into a blind rage, he wouldn't see the doorways until it was too late. And she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she knew he had not only killed someone, but gotten trapped under God-knew what ocean!

The two ferals were still locked in combat as Kitty came up to the stage. The two of them moved so fast, dodging and blocking, raking and punching. They were both bloodied and beaten, but both seemed to heal as fast as they scored glancing blows on each other. Kitty stared in awe for long moments as the two combatants seemed to be quite evenly matched. After a moment of watching, she willed herself insubstantial, and walked forward carefully.

She passed through the stage, as Nightcrawler, Jean and Cyclops ran out of the tent. ShadowCat waved heartily at them, hesitating only when she registered the greenish hue to Jean's features. Disturbed, or disgusted, Kitty couldn't figure out what was bothering her. Nor did she really have time. Wolverine glanced down at her, stepping over her protruding head as he drove forward into Carnal with a series of hard, fast punches. The feral girl took them all in stride, catching them on her forearms. But she was backing away, giving in to the force of Wolverine's blows.

_Logan? _It was Jean, hesitantly touching his thoughts. Concern colored her inner voice, giving Wolverine reason to smile. _The doors are open, Logan; we have to go now._

He pondered asking Jeannie to knock the girl out for him, since she rebounded so quickly from all of his blows. He loathed the thought of gutting her like a common fish; frightfully, she reminded him all too well of himself. He didn't even have a chance to ask; lost in his thoughts like that, he had missed Carnal's subtle weight shift. Kitty hadn't.

Just as the feral girl pounced, claws extended; Kitty grabbed Logan's leg, and pulled him through the stage floor, out of the way of danger. Carnal landed hard, and skidded a few feet, pivoting to face empty space. Confused, she peered around for her opponent. Jean bit her lip, and whispered an apology, before she flared a single, overpowering thought into Carnal's mind.

With a painful cry of outrage and fear, the shapeshifter clutched her head, and crumpled into a pile. ShadowCat brought herself and Logan back up to the stage level, where she released him, returning to solidity. Wolverine knelt by the young feral, and watched fascinated as she shed muscle-mass, bulk and height, until a petite, filthy young lady lay unconscious at his feet.

"Let's go," he growled as he picked her up. "I've had enough fun for one day."

"Awww…" Kurt griped as he pouted. "Just when things were getting interesting!"

Logan counted heads one last time, before they all stepped through the doorway, back into the vacant lot. He let the ten kids file out first, pausing before he left the dome with his burden. Overhead, another dark shape circled the dome, and somewhere within the rubble of the ghost carnival, he swore he heard someone crying. He eyed the girl in his arms, fearing for her well-being. She was so light, so thin, so mistreated. How long would it take to break through the trauma's she'd experienced?

He allowed himself to smile down at her, before he closed his eyes and stepped through the portal. As the gut-wrenching sensation of being teleported gripped him, he wondered just how he was supposed to explain all of this to the Professor. He laid her in the front seat, where she automatically curled up to fit in the smallest space possible. Around him, the kids were all somber, and quiet, until Jubilation broke the silence.

"You mean, we're bringing her home with us?"

Logan nodded. "She's a mutant too. It's the least we can do for her."

Amanda fidgeted quietly until Kurt put his arm around her. "How can someone be that cruel to another living thing?" she asked him, her lower lip pouting slightly. He hugged her then, an action that Rahne joined in on, first. Soon enough, only the boys stood aloof from the situation.

Logan was the first in the van, closing the door tightly, and making sure the radio was instantly and permanently turned off. With a rumble the van started, and the kids piled in, a few exchanging nervous glances. Wolverine was impressed, even Jubilee was quiet on the ride back to the Institute. But he had a feeling that Jean was already in contact with the Professor, which suddenly made him feel a little bit happier.

The kids disappeared as soon as he shut the van off. Logan found himself wishing they moved that fast in their training sessions. As he carefully extracted Carnal from the front seat, he caught the scent of their approach long before he turned around. Professor Charles Xavier and his right hand weather-witch, Ororo Munroe stood quietly waiting for him just outside the garage.

"Jean told me what happened," Xavier began, wheeling slowly forward. He paused as Logan came towards him, the limp girl protected in his arms. "You did well protecting the children, as well as rescuing that one."

Logan grunted. "She needs medical attention. And food…"

"And a bath," Ororo added as she approached Logan. She laid a slender, nut-brown hand on the girls face, brushing her fingers down her neck until she found a pulse. "Her heart is racing," she murmured with a frown.

Logan moved away from the native African. "She's a shifter," he told them as he moved towards the huge house. "And a feral… like I was." He didn't care to listen further, as Ororo turned to the Professor; he kept going, shouldering his way into the house carefully. The girl stirred weakly in his arms, and he did his best to calm her. Moments after he laid her in the infirmary, Ororo rolled Xavier in behind him.

"So," Logan sighed as he turned back towards the two others. "What happens now?"


	2. Chapter 2

X-Gene

She was sleeping peacefully… finally. It had taken the greater part of four hours to make her understand that she was no longer caged. But Logan couldn't help but feel, as he watched her from the doorway, that he had only sentenced her to a different form of captivity. She had refused to acknowledge the bed; instead she used the blankets to make a strange sort of nest, which conformed to her strange form. Logan watched her until she had fallen asleep, curled impossibly small, and impossibly flexible. Her dinner was untouched, but he left the food in the center of the room. Slowly, quietly, he closed the door, wincing as the lock fell into place with a dull click. She was locked in, for the safety of the kids.

With a sigh, he turned to the Professor, and scrubbed a hand along his thick, dark hair. "So, what do you think those tests'll tell you?"

"Hopefully her age, a DNA print, a place to start looking for her family, her past," Xavier answered as Logan took control of his wheelchair. It was Xavier's turn to sigh. "I have been unable to reach anything resembling a human thought pattern in her mind… everything is fragmented and jumbled." He felt Logan nod slightly. "Do you think there is anything vestigial left to contact?"

"If you're askin', do I think she's in there?" Logan chuckled softly. "She's definitely in there. It'll just… be a while to dig her out."

"Hank should have her tests done by morning," Xavier announced after a moment of silence conference. "If she's undergone the kind of trauma that her scarring suggests…"

"Scarring?" The interruption had been expected. He hadn't been around when Ororo and Jean had cleaned the unconscious Carnal up.

Xavier calmly continued around Logan's outburst. "…then the mental damage she's suffered may far outweigh anything we can counteract." He sighed, and reached back to pat Logan's hand, as if the action were meant to comfort him. "From what we've uncovered so far, we can assume that her mutation had manifested very early in her life, perhaps before she even reached puberty."

Logan was growling softly, but remained silent until he had wheeled the Professor into his study. "You'll notify me when she's awake?"

Xavier turned the chair himself, slowly pivoting on one wheel. "Of course," Xavier responded, nodding slightly. "You will be the first to know."

"And the test results?"

"Hank will share them with all three of us, as soon as he has them ready." Logan grunted in response, and turned to leave. "Oh, and Logan?" The feral paused, turning slightly to glance at the Professor over his shoulder. "If she proves a threat to my students, we will have to pursue alternative avenues."

Logan didn't answer, letting the sound of the door closing speak for him. It bugged him; no, it didn't just bug him, it irritated him. To see everyone around him react to the girl as if she were nothing more than an animal! Logan let himself stew, wallowing in the gripping anger as he descended through the levels towards the training room. The weights and the dummies filled his mind through the wee hours of the night, as he alternated between power lifting, and knocking the stuffing out of the practice dummies. His _gi_ was soaked with sweat as he pushed himself into the numbness of motion, concentrating on the pull of each muscle, and twinge of each tendon as he twisted through _kata_ and sword forms.

The sun had barely begun to rise as the intercom buzzed in the room. Snatching a towel from the weight bench, Logan jogged over to it. Answering the buzz with a grunt, he heard Xavier's calm, even voice, and a dreadful caterwauling behind it.

"She's awake," was all that came out of the Professor's mouth before Logan was running through the halls. As he came through to the upper levels, he could hear the heartbreaking howling coming from Carnal's prison. Apparently, so did the rest of the students, as they were all clustered as close as they dared to get. Logan pushed his way through them, having to squeeze past five, or six, little Jamie's. Logan glanced in the window and grinned.

"At least she ate," he chuckled noting the empty place. But Carnal was sitting in the center of the floor, her head was thrown back and the heart-rending sound was issuing from her throat. He gave a curt nod to Jean and Ororo, before he opened the door and slipped inside.

Carnal's howling instantly stopped. She was on her feet in a blur, her hair floating around her head and shoulders like a downy, coal-colored cloud. Free of the grime and the dirt, she was beautiful, feral and dangerous. It was enough to make Logan's heart skip as her wild, golden eyes locked onto his. He suddenly realized that he was feeling the exact way most women felt when he fixed them with his own predatory gaze. Feeling sheepish, he held his hands out, palm up, and remained locked in a stare-down with her.

She was trying to establish her place in a pack, he realized, watching her body language as she hunched her shoulders, trying to make herself look bigger. Her every muscle quivered with tension, her fingers were short again, her hands taking on the more paw-like appearance. She constantly shifted, her body twisting and adapting, as she stood rooted to her spot. Logan refused to back down.

He took one step forward; she didn't move. After a few more moments, he took another, then another. He was standing right before her, staring down into her eyes with an intensity that would have cowed any normal person. She wasn't normal; she snorted, and balled her fists up, but Logan knew she wouldn't break the eye-contact by swinging at him. This was a dominance contest, and she had already lost by showing her aggression.

He let his upper lip curl slightly, narrowing his eyes as if challenging her to attack. That was all that he needed; her fists relaxed, her eyes dropped. She backed away one step, letting her chin touch her chest and her eyes nearly close. Logan couldn't help but smile, even submissive, she still harbored the desire to put him under. He reached out, and touched her chin, intending to lift her head. Carnal jerked away so quickly, she became a blur. Striking at his hand, her slap stung as if she had struck him across the face. Her teeth bared; she snarled, and continued to edge back away from him.

_Logan?_ The Professor's quiet mental voice cut through his thoughts. The feral man shook his head, and waved towards the door dismissively. He had completely forgotten about the audience. The damned girl deserved more privacy than this. If he was going to dig her out of herself, he couldn't afford to have so much pressure.

_Logan, the tests are finished. Hank needs to see us in the labs._

Logan shook his head again, but he sighed and decided to defer. "Hold that thought, darlin'." She stared at him blankly. He turned to leave, but heard Carnal's soft whine before he reached the door. Placing his fingers to his lips, he prayed she understood the signal. He could have sworn she whined again as the door clicked locked behind him.

"I'll make this quick," Hank was hanging from the ceiling when they arrived in the cramped lab. With a flip and a flourish, he landed beside Ororo and offered her a fanged smile. Blue and furry though he was, the brilliant mind beneath the brutish exterior did possess some small amount of charm. "This girl you've found, Logan, is an amazing work of artistry! A true analogous metamorph!"

He gestured to the screens around him, as numbers and letters flashed quicker than the eye could follow. "Blood Type O Negative… possessing an enormity of platelets and white blood cells. I'd hazard to say she's rival Logan in her hardiness." Again, the flashing smile came as Logan grunted. Quick for Hank wasn't quick enough for Logan. "Roughly, I'd put her age around 25, perhaps even upwards of 30, but as we all know, DNA age-testing is far from accurate."

Ororo glanced at Logan, a man who knew so little about his past he couldn't even tell how old he was. Logan's gaze was intent, never leaving Hank. She pondered why this girl meant so much, so quickly to their aloof physical trainer.

"Along with an incredibly active X-Gene, she has extremely high levels of endorphins and testosterone in her system. I'm going to hazard a hypothesis, that those enzymes aid in the control and use of her oddly manifesting shifting abilities." Hank kept going, and Logan began to stop listening, letting his thoughts drift back to the frightened girl locked two floors up.

"What about the scars?" Logan asked suddenly, remembering Xavier's off-handed comment last night.

"Oh," Hank broke off from his rambling train of speech to ponder that. "Oh, yes! From the scars along her back and torso, it appears that she's been… shall we say… experimented upon?" Hank couldn't find a euphemism for what he suspected. And he shifted uncomfortably as Logan's eyes bore down upon him. "She may have been vivisected… I'd have to run more tests on her to find out exactly what'd been done."

Logan shook his head. "She's not gonna have to go through any more tests." He growled softly, gripping the handles of the Professor's wheelchair until his knuckles turned white. "She needs help… not to be poked at anymore."

He forced himself to release the handles of the wheelchair, and he turned, preparing to exit the lab and return to Carnal's prison. But Hank's soft voice stopped him.

"There's one last thing… about her DNA structure…" He paused until he had Logan's attention too. At one screen, he hit a few keys upon a keyboard, calling up a digital display. "She has a third strand… it's an unfamiliar compound to me, something I have to conduct more tests on to find out what it is… but the strand is entwined with her primary helix. It's a half-strand, more like a length of RNA than anything else. But it's definitely not natural."

"And?" Logan asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"And it's the only thing holding her cells together… I tried to extract the information, and the cells instantly underwent lyses. She's storing information; a living… breathing… walking… library." Hank scowled then, his lower canines protruding with a gleam. "Every attempt I made to study her DNA resulted in instant cell destruction."

Logan continued to scowl. Xavier shook his head slightly, and hazarded a speculation. "So whoever experimented upon her encoded something upon her DNA that should the information be retrieved… her body would, essentially, self-destruct?"

"Precisely."

Logan didn't want to hear anymore. The door shutting behind him gave full breath of his opinion. Xavier sighed, rubbing his temples lightly. "Hank, what am I do to do if she's a threat to my children?"

He was standing at the window when Xavier found him again. He didn't look happy, watching Carnal cooped up in that tiny room. She was stalking her lunch at that particular moment, circling warily around the perimeter of the room. The plate that Logan left her was once again full of meat, mostly the steaks Logan had been planning on saving for the Start-of-Summer barbeque. He was silent as Charles wheeled into position beside him; silent as Xavier's gaze was drawn again and again to the stalking predator.

"She's not evil, Chuck," Logan began softly as the feral pounced upon the plate of meat. Her fingers sported cat-like claws that extended and dug into the tender meat. Under their gaze, her jaw shifted and twisted, canines lengthened. She shook the meat, ravenously gulping down bites.

"I never said she was," Xavier countered. "We are old friends, Logan, yet I still cannot figure out why you are so obsessed by this girl."

They both watched in fascinated silence for a short time; Carnal gorged herself, cleaning the plate of all traces of flavor before she retired to her pile of blankets.

"I was like her once," Logan said quietly, allowing him a slight laugh as she carefully washed her face with her hands. "Feral, uncontrollable… but I was taken in, helped."

Xavier was silent. Logan rarely ever talked of the days he remembered, what little of the man's past was still held in the mostly blank memories. They both fell silent again as they watched her fix her blankets, pulling them and pushing them until they were piled in just the right manner. She curled up, incredibly flexible, and covered her eyes with her hands. She would sleep while she digested. Logan sighed, and finally turned toward Xavier.

"Chuck? What good am I if I can't help her?" Logan asked, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. "I've been where she is; I know how it feels."

Xavier shook his head, but refused to meet Logan's gaze. "Tell me, Wolverine." Logan stiffened slightly. "Do you think she is a threat to the students?"

That wasn't the question Logan wanted to hear. He sighed and hung his head. "Right now… in her current state… yes." He couldn't lie, not to a telepath of the caliber of Xavier. "But, in time, once she recognizes that the students are part of her pack too…"

"Pack?"

Logan nodded. "She's wolf-like. When I went in earlier, she tried to stare me down. It's a pack dominance thing. This time, she let me enter without a problem. To her, I'm the pack alpha, and she's the omega wolf."

"I see," the Professor resorted to his _let me think_ phrase. Logan rested a hand against the door while he waited for Xavier to finish thinking. "How do you propose to get her to recognize the students as pack-mates?"

It was Logan's turn to think. He rested his forehead against his hand. "Time… attention…" He picked his head up, his pale eyes intent on the sleeping form. "She needs to understand and trust me, Chuck."

Xavier couldn't help but pick up the surface thoughts of his long time friend. Reaching up, he patted the man's arm, as if to reassure him that all would be well in the end. "I can give you two weeks, and use of the boat house. It is off-limits to the students; you should have your privacy there."

Logan grinned, but didn't respond. He nodded almost to himself as he peered through the window again at the sleeping feral. With only two weeks, he had his work cut out for him.


	3. Chapter 3

The Boat House

The boathouse was on the farthest end of Xavier's property, on the shore by a spring fed pond. It had two main rooms; the larger of the two was a kitchen and living room combined. The television set was old; the couch was lumpy, and water leaked from the faucet. The bedroom was small, cluttered with boxes that Logan had brought down for supplies. He stocked the refrigerator with as much meat as he could possibly afford, and threw in some grapes and apples just in case. He allowed himself a thirty-pack of beer, as potential rewards for himself on the days he made progress. In the bedroom he had one box of a few possessions from each of the students, and a large box of photographs. He made the small bed, with a minimal of sheets, and threw the rest of the blankets onto the floor. Placing the rest of the boxes up high, he sat on the bed and glanced out the window.

The sun was sinking low in the western sky, casting long shadows everywhere. Jean and the Prof were right on time. Logan felt awful about having to subdue Carnal to bring her down here, and his heart lurched at the sight of her unconscious form being levitated beside Jean. He headed through the live-in kitchen, and met the two telepaths at the door. He stepped outside and took Carnal up in his arms without a word.

"You know how to reach me if anything goes awry," Xavier reminded him unnecessarily.

Logan nodded, his attention wholly on Carnal.

"She'll wake up in 15 minutes or so," Jean told him. She reached out then, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just be careful, okay?"

Logan couldn't help but to grin, as if he found her concern humorous. "You know me, darlin'."

Jean laughed in response to that. "That's what I'm worried about."

"Come on, Jean," Xavier touched the redhead's arm. "Let's leave Logan to his work. Heaven knows he's got it cut out for him."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Chuck," Logan griped to the retreating wheelchair.

As Carnal awoke, Logan was sitting on the bed again. His elbows were on his knees, and his chin was between his hands. She moved in sort of a dreamlike manner, as if this whole thing were nothing more than a figment of her imagination. She sniffed the air, and nosed around the bureaus while she got her bearings. Finally, she turned to look directly at Logan, her amber eyes locking fearlessly onto his.

"Hey, darlin'," he whispered quietly to her, his gruff voice cracking.

She tilted her head curiously to him, and took a few steps forward. She moved on all fours, her legs altered and bent awkwardly like dog's legs. It seemed so natural as she moved like that. She wore only an oversized white tee shirt. Logan let her approach him, her pale face standing out against the coal black cloud of hair.

He moved slowly once she had stopped drawing nearer. He lifted his head from his hands, and slowly lowered one hand towards her. She watched him, her eyes growing wider and wider as he drew closer and closer to touching her. "I'm not goin' to hurt ya," he began softly, causing her to focus on his voice. "I just want ya to trust me; I would never hurt ya. That's it, darlin'. Listen to my voice, look in my eyes."

His hand brushed against her hair. Every muscle in Carnal's body tensed up, as if she were waiting for him to strike. Fear glistened in her eyes, but Logan kept talking, keeping her attention on his voice and eyes. His brow was furrowed with worry; if she decided to attack him, there would be no telepaths to fall back on for help. He smoothed his hand over her hair, once, twice. Visibly, she began to relax, though she was still carefully guarded.

Logan kept talking as he slid off the bed, lowering himself to his knees in front of her. Carnal began to shake, the thick musk of her uncertainty was like a shroud in the room. His other hand joined in the petting, smoothing over her hair, and shoulders, brushing lightly against the skin of her forearms. "You're doin' good, sweetheart; but I'm not gonna push you. See?" Logan began to draw back, showing her his hands, open and empty. "You can trust me, darlin'."

As soon as he had withdrawn both his hands, Carnal skittered back into the nest of blankets. She wiggled her toes in the warm cotton cloths, and sat back on her haunches, watching Logan expectantly.

"Now what?" he asked her. "I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing here." He sighed softly, and scrubbed a hand through his hair. The sun was sinking quicker now, casting long dark shadows across the lake. "I don't know about you, Carnal, but I'm hungry."

He rose from the floor and opened the bedroom door. Leaving it open behind him, Logan turned into the kitchenette. After a few minutes of rummaging around in the fridge, he was aware of Carnal sniffing around the house carefully. She sniffed around the bathroom door, and into the living room. Logan watched her, as he unwrapped a steak. She was like a new dog examining the house for the first time, getting every corner, and every cranny.

He dropped the steak in a pan, and proceeded to sear it on the stove. At the sound of the sizzle and the rising scent of warm cooking meat, Carnal's attention swung around towards him. She sat in the center of the living room, and watched him intently. As Logan flipped the steak over, she gave a soft, almost inaudible whine.

"Hungry, darlin'?" he asked with a smile. She continued to watch him with a hopeful gaze. He seared the steak lightly, and dropped it onto the plate. That plate he set down before Carnal, who simply gazed at the meat longingly. "Go on, eat," Logan prompted, waving his fork at her. "I got more."

He went back to the fridge and unwrapped another steak. Carnal's eyes narrowed as she looked at the fridge, then at the meat in Logan's hands, and finally back down at her own serving. She continued to wait, as if she thought Logan may be teasing her with the meal. Only when Logan sat down with his own steak, did she allow herself to sample hers. Logan watched her tear apart the meat with her long canines, and he sighed. He certainly had his work cut out for him.

As so their routine was born. Every morning, and every night, as the first and last exercises of the day, Logan put her through the trust routine. By the third day, he had memorized all the scars that crisscrossed her back, and he found he could praise her with touch. By the end of the third day, she had learned what a smile meant, and often returned his. The fourth day he pulled out the box of pictures, and they sat side by side on the floor while he showed her the students, and named them. Logan was disappointed; she still never spoke.

As he awoke on the fifth day, he shook the sleepiness from his head, and looked automatically towards Carnal's blankets. His heart nearly stopped when he realized she wasn't there. Clad only on his boxers, he ran out into the living room, and felt the iron bands lift from his heart. She was curled up on the couch, sound asleep. He sat on the arm, feeling oddly weak with relief. Then his eyes drifted to the floor.

The pictures that he had left out last night were all carefully arranged. A circle of group pictures ringed the entire floor space; within that ring, individual pictures were arranged, in a startlingly clear social hierarchy. Everyone was represented, Xavier at the top; little, young Jamie Madrox at the bottom. Some pictures were in tiers, but even in those rows of like students some lay slightly higher than others. Logan, Hank and Ororo were all in the same general line, but Logan's picture was slightly higher than the other two, and Hank's was slightly lower.

Dumbfounded, he returned to the bedroom to get the camera. Standing over the social order of things, he took as many pictures as he could, before Carnal woke up. Putting the camera away, he sat down on the edge of the bed again, scrubbing both hands through his hair. He heard Carnal get up, and stretch, and pad quietly towards the bedroom. She pushed the door open with her hand, and continued in that odd four-legged gait inside. She sat down in front of him, and reached up, placing her hands on his knees. Her short paw-like fingers changed as he watched them; her fingers became longer and more human-like. She pulled at him lightly, whining softly under her breath.

Logan rose at her behest, and followed her out of the bedroom. She was showing him what she had created, except now, she sat herself carefully in a spot Logan hadn't noticed before. A large blank space beneath Jamie's picture, now housed the final step in the hierarchy. Her.

He stared, and found himself worrying. She was the omega, and he was a ranking pack member. As she looked up at him, he found himself aching to ease the pain in her eyes. Suddenly, he held his hand out to her.

"Come on," he prompted.

She stared at his hand for a long minute, until Logan leaned down and took hers up. He pulled on her hand. "Walk on two," he told her. "Like me… you can do it."

Carnal was confused. She wiggled her bare toes, and the muscles in her legs rippled. Logan pulled on her arm again, this time lifting her partially off her feet. "Two legs," he said, holding up two fingers. He placed those two fingers against his arm and finger-walked down. "You can do it, darlin'."

She closed her amber eyes, and pulled against his arm. Logan saw pain etch deeply into her features as she began to straighten herself. The sound of popping joints, and the groan of muscles protesting against the change seemed to drown out the beat of his heart. Her femurs elongated, and her spine straightened; Carnal's eyes were screwed tightly shut, and her fingers were squeezing his hand so tightly he had lost feeling in his fingertips. She almost collapsed, but Logan caught her, snaking an arm around her waist.

He smiled as she opened her eyes, and she returned him a shaky, uncertain grin. Her teeth were still elongated, poking over her lips like little fangs. She seemed to recover quickly, shaking off the lingering pain as her healing factor kicked in to repair the minor damages left over. She still balanced on her toes, and she clung to Logan's hand like life support.

Guiding her through the kitchen, Logan moved slowly, giving her time to get used to the bipedal movement. He wondered how long it had been since she had consciously taken a less… bestial form. She got the hang of walking quickly, and allowed Logan to lead her outside. As soon as the fresh air hit her face, Carnal's expression lit up. Her eyes widened, and her jaw slacked slightly. She was frozen on the spot, deeply inhaling as if she could catch a million scents all at once.

Logan couldn't stop smiling. It was like watching a child experience her first snowstorm. She released his hand, and dropped back down to all fours. Her form changed too quickly and easily to suit her habitual form, that Logan found disappointment taking root in his heart. She was too suited to the quadruped form. He sat down on the stairs, then, content to let her explore and run around. He sighed deeply, and let the cool spring breeze wash over him. He'd start familiarizing her to the scents of the other students after lunch.

Seven days had passed. Carnal knew the students by scent, picking their pictures easily out of the box when Logan presented her with a scent. She was smart, so smart it astonished him at times. But she still hadn't spoken a word, or even made a sound other than a creatures. Into their daily routine had been incorporated the trips outside, and Carnal's enforced bipedal form during those times. She was getting very good at running and playing, chasing the late spring butterflies but never far from Logan's gaze.

She squeezed mud through her toes at the pond's edge, watching intently for frogs that she could pounce on. She squatted by the water's edge, wobbling slightly as she kept correcting her balance. Logan dangled his feet in the water from the dock; the pond was swollen with rain, and the sky was still gray and threatening. He turned to watch Carnal as she jumped with a great splash. Logan chuckled to himself as the frog squirmed free of her grip and leapt away.

Carnal lay in the water for a few moments, before struggling back up to her feet. She headed towards Logan on the dock, dripping water and mud from her tee shirt, dirty and wet. She crouched beside him, and suddenly shook, showering him with cold water and chunks of mud. He shielded his face as best he could, before laughingly glaring at the girl.

"You need a bath, darlin'," he joked, wishing suddenly that she could understand him. Carnal was leaning over the edge of the dock then, watching her reflection in the water. Logan edged forward so he could watch her. She reached down towards the reflection, droplets of water causing the image to ripple and change. She seemed to change her mind, reaching back to herself, running her hand along her jaw and face. Logan's reflection came over the edge of the dock as well, causing her to start and stare.

She reached out and touched his face, watching the reflection in the water. Her hands were light as feathers, just barely grazing over the stubble on his chin. Her thumb grazed his lips, and he suppressed a shiver, closing his eyes, willing his body to not react. Carnal froze in that posture, and sniffed the air.

She turned with a low growl, a rumble that sounded deep in her throat. Logan turned a moment later, trying to calm Carnal. By the time his hand touched her back, she had calmed herself, recognizing the scents of Xavier and Scott Summers. Logan rose, dusting himself off and padding back up the dock. Carnal followed him, four steps behind, and dropping back into a crouch when he stopped before the two of them.

"Logan," Xavier began by way of greeting. Logan gave a nod to the two of them. "How are things going?"

"She didn't attack you, did she?" Logan asked brusquely. "She recognizes all the students scents. Chuck, she even knew the social structure just from the photos."

"I see," Xavier mused, watching her carefully. "She still has no cohesive thought patterns. Are you sure you are making progress?"

"Positive." Logan answered.

"Professor?" Scott ventured uneasily. Carnal was watching him in particular it seemed. "Do you think she might be… autistic or something?"

The Professor's eyebrows lifted. "That is something I have not yet considered, Scott." He seemed more intrigued in how Logan dropped his hand to brush Carnal's hair from her face. The feral girl's amber eyes were calm, and easy, filled with curiosity. Her ease gave Xavier new hope.

"Scott, do you think you could do some research on autism for us?" Xavier asked, as he gestured Scott to bring him back to the mansion. "Logan, you're doing a fine job. Keep up the good work."

As the two of them disappeared over the rolling lawn, Logan looked down at Carnal, and bit his lower lip.

The evening of night ten, Logan was beat. He and Carnal had wrestled in the grass for nearly six straight hours, with neither one ever having the advantage for long. He was looking forward to a nice quiet evening with a beer and the television for once. He had set Carnal up on the floor with the photo box, wondering perhaps what new social structure she would come up with. She lay stretched out on her stomach, her ankles crossed. He had forced her to give up the white tee shirt in favor for a darker hue, and a pair of his shorts. They were huge on her, hanging off her spindly frame like a burlap bag. With a click and whirr, the television set flared to life.

Carnal's attention was instantly torn from the photographs. The hum and bustle of new voices caused her to tremble slightly. Logan flipped a few channels before he realized that Carnal had risen to her knees and shuffled over to the set. She pushed the screen, tilted her head, and pushed again, harder. Logan came up beside her.

"It's a TV set, darlin'," he said quietly. "Moving pictures, see?" He switched the channel again, and Carnal's eyes reflected the huge Hollywood explosion that tore across the screen. He put his hand on her shoulder, and gave her a gentle pull. "Come on, it's better if you watch from the couch."

Her eyes never moved from the set, as Logan led her to the couch, and pulled her down beside him. She was fascinated as he flipped through stations, until he found something that he felt like watching. He settled back and stretched his arms over the back of the couch, as Clint Eastwood took the screen by storm. He let Carnal get as comfortable as she wanted to, a position that changed over the two-hour movie a few times. He dozed off once while she was cuddled up against his chest, only to awaken to find her curled on her side, using his lap as a pillow.

He smiled softly to himself as he recognized the slow steady gait of sleep in her breathing. He lowered one hand to play with her hair, smoothing it and twirling a strand around his finger. She purred softly in her sleep as he channel surfed, until his eyes were too heavy to keep open any more.

Logan woke stiff and sore; the sky was still dark, the moon covered by the clouds. His lap felt cold and empty; his hand missed the fine texture of hair beneath it. "Carnal?" her name drifted from his lips as he shook himself fully awake. She was sitting in front of the television again; the screen silhouetting her form. Logan recognized the late night news, and rose slowly from the couch.

"_Doctor Philip Tradys introduced today his miracle drug. Dr. Tradys has been working on this drug for the last twenty years, following his lifelong dream of searching for the cure for multiple sclerosis._"

Carnal was touching the screen, following the Doctor's image with her fingertips. Logan drew closer and could see the tension outlined against the shirt, her muscles taut and hard. A low growl rumbled deep in her throat. Was she reacting to the man's image on the screen? Logan sniffed slightly, and wrinkled his nose as the rank stench of terror rolled into his nostrils, tempered by the spicy musk of anger.

"_Doctor Tradys is best known for running this home in Montana for terminally ill patients._" Carnal tensed further, her hands dropping to the edges of the set, as the image of a huge gray and black hospital flashed across the screen. "_Since the disappeara—"_

Carnal moved before Logan could stop her. With a roar of fury, she straightened, grabbing the television and hauling on it. The cable snapped; the electrical plug pulling free with a pop. Carnal threw her entire body into slamming the television to the floor. Logan grabbed for her, catching her around the waist. He wasn't fast enough to pull her away before she had balled her fists and repeatedly slammed her forearms and fists into the screen, shattering glass and tubes.

Logan hauled against her form, lifting her feet off the floor, as she kicked and hollered. Glass bounced off the floor as the gashes on her forearms began to seal shut, pushing the shards free. Logan threw her to the floor, and quickly pinned her down. She strained against him, but her struggles were quickly losing strength against Logan's wordless whispers. She curled her hands into the collar of his shirt, as he lifted her off the floor into his arms. He sat up with her on his lap, as she shivered with fear. He lifted one hand and stroked her hair and back, rocking her gently.

Carnal broke suddenly, a horrendous soul-deep sob breaking through her defenses. She clutched Logan close, and cried.


	4. Chapter 4

Mornings were her favorite. Rising so early that sometimes the sun had not yet shaken itself from bed yet, she enjoyed the quiet and the peace that the house settled into. For five months now, she had been here at this place. And soon, she would finally be included as a full member of the pack, to help protect, and defend her new family.

Often times, she was content to remain in the sparse room where the beta male allowed her to sleep. But occasionally she felt the urge to roam. The sky was sleepy, a low hanging fog hiding the backyard beneath droopy brows. She stood slowly, straightening her spine, aligning her pelvis, redistributing the concentration of muscle mass so she enabled herself to 'walk on two,' as the beta would prefer.

He stirred in his sleep as she padded past the bed. His sweat was metallic, feverish, as he pitched about in his sleep. He was dreaming; she felt… raw… no, she felt sad that he snarled and cried at night like a pup chasing a thought-bunny. Yes, she wanted to touch him, to comfort his fear with a lick, but she did not. It wasn't her place in the pack, and surely she would be punished for it. Instead, she left him, padding to the door.

Her mouth formed silent words as she glanced back. No human sound had yet escaped from her lips, but she was practicing. She used her body to muffle the sound of the handle turning, and she slipped silently from his room. The other packmates, and the cubs, would still be all asleep. But the alpha, he would know she roamed the halls. He always knew; that's why he was alpha.

He didn't mind her roaming the halls. Just so long as she didn't break anything. And there was a lot of stuff to break in this house. She crept past statues, and snuck past half-open doors. Poking her head in one, she watched a furry blue leg twitch in dream. Pressing a hand to her mouth, she smiled at the scene. This cub was barely old enough to be considered a pack member, but he certainly was one. He flopped over in bed, his pointy tail waggling in the air.

She smiled, and moved on, creeping down the hallway. The females rooms were always prettier than the males. Cleaner too. And the smelled better. She liked them all, even the young cub who had threatened to burn her on more than one occasion. She made a mental note to be exceptionally silent around the one's room. Creeping further down the hall, she caught whiff of something. Pausing, she scented; her nose restructured as she did, nasal cavities widening to fully taste the scent.

Was someone awake? No… it was just the female who walked through walls. Sleep walking. She suppressed a chuckle again, biting her fingers on her fist this time to keep herself quiet. The female, her thick ponytail bobbing as she walked, moved up through the floor, into the hallway, and finally into the room she shared with the hands-off female. With a chuckle, she moved on, leaving the dormitory area and ascending the stairs toward the attic.

The attic was another of her favorite places. Especially when the alpha female made it rain inside! She had learned quickly that the breaking rule was enforced much heavier up there, but that the white-furred alpha female didn't mind such a lowly packmate as herself within her den. She pushed on the trap door with her head, peeking up and peering around to see what was going on. The plants seemed to wave at her, swaying in the cooling breeze.

She climbed up slowly, inhaling deeply. Fresh rain, and warm earth scents greeted her. She slipped inside, gently closing the trapdoor behind her. Starlight filtered in through the windows in the roof. And the pre-dawn gray had begun to creep up that wide celestial ceiling. As she sat there, staring at the world beyond the glass, the skin on the back of her neck and arms began to prickle. She'd long identified the sensation with being watched, so she scented the air. No one was in the attic with her, just faded scents of storm clouds and perfume. She turned slightly, and smiled at the air. The sensation vanished as quickly as it had come.

Just the alpha male checking up on her. Her stomach rolled after a few more moments, demanding to be filled. Quietly, she lifted the trap door again, and slipped out, dropping down the shallow ladder and landing with a soft thump on the carpet. Her body slipped to four-legs, spine curving, joints popping and reforming. The pain burned her senses, bringing tears to her eyes as she crouched upon the floor, shifting. As her knee finally popped back into place, she rubbed at it sorely, and limped off down the hall. Maybe there was still some chicken left from dinner last night, or even better, the last of that duck she and the beta male had shared a few sunsets ago.

By the time she had reached the kitchen, the pain in her knee had subsided. It was all part and parcel of her abilities, her body always returned to how she had always remembered it. But she didn't feel like returning to two legs any time soon. The steady ache in her back eased as she crouched down before the cold-closet. With another glance around, she made sure she was the only one around, and casually opened the door. The blast of cool air that surrounded her was a respite, it cooled her face and hands, and brought a toothy smile to her face.

Mmm, yes. There was still a duck leg inside the cold-closet. Cold or hot, she didn't care as she reached in and snagged the dark meat from the shelf. Most of the chicken was naked of meat, with the exception of a few spots on the breast. She wrinkled her nose, and closed the door. White meat had no flavor. She crouched on the floor, and dug into the duck leg, stripping the bone clean with a few fast bites.

A soft whirr brought her around in an instant. She snarled softly at the thing on the counter, and blinked at the flashing lights. As soon as she realized it wasn't trying to steal her food, or attack her, she crept closer to investigate. The bitter caramelized smell greeted her nose and she sneezed. The beta's morning drink machine was running, dropping little bits of that dark, smelly stuff he liked into a clear pot. She blinked. It was getting later than she thought if this thing had started itself.

She stripped the rest of the meat from the bone, and proceeded to crack the thick femur between her teeth. Even if the marrow was slightly dried and liked to cling to her tongue, she still wanted it. No body else let her crack the bones, so she gained the extra sustenance only early in the mornings. She paused, and sniffed again.

Lavender perfume. The alpha female was awake. She skittered across the tiled floor quickly, to dispose of the duck bones. And then she slid, turning the sharp corner onto the carpeted floor of the family room. Smiling to herself as she crouched around the corner, she watched the white-furred alpha female come into the center of the kitchen.

"Carnal?" her voice was smooth and melodious. "I could have sworn I heard her in here." The alpha female shrugged and turned toward the cold-closet. As she did, she looked directly toward the den. "Oh, there you are. Why don't you come out and give me a hand, getting everything ready?"

The fall of dark hair twitched, and she slowly crept back into the kitchen. Glancing around, she had to check, making sure that it couldn't be someone else the alpha female was talking to. She thought the alpha's an odd pair, for neither of them treated those around them as inferiors, yet they commanded all the respect and attention of alphas! They didn't even mate in the spring! And the beta female seemed only to be interested in a lesser male! She shook her head slightly as she pondered over all of it.

"Here," the alpha female was holding something out. "Put this on the table in the dining room for me?"

She took it, and began to rise, adapting, changing, shifting her body back to two legs. As she began to get to her feet, something sharp caught, stabbing a bolt of pain right through her gut. With a gasping cry, she dropped the bowl, and collapsed to the floor.

Ororo dove in an attempt to catch the girl. She proved to be too slow, as both the girl, and the bowl crashed to the floor. The crystal shattered into a thousand pieces, fruit bounced across the tiles. And Carnal curled onto her side, both her arms wrapped around one knee. Kneeling beside the girl, Ororo tried to get a look at her leg, but Carnal only clutched tighter.

_Professor?_ Ororo thought as loudly as she dared.

_I know, Ororo. I felt it. I'm waking Logan and Hank now._ Xavier responded without hesitation.

"Easy, Carnal. Easy. You have to let me see," Ororo tried to calm her down, talking softly to the girl. Carnal tensed beneath Ororo's hands, the muscles in her back and legs defining themselves in strain. Logan's bare feet skidded across the tile, just in time to hear it.

As Carnal's mouth opened in a soundless scream of pain, a sharp, sickening pop reverberated around the kitchen. A sob wracked through the girl's body, but the tension began to slowly dissipate. She released her knee, and stretched a hand forward, attempting to crawl away. Logan crouched down, blocking her path.

"Woah there, kid." His hand came to rest heavily on her forehead, serving as a slight hold to keep her in place. "Don't move until Henry gets his blue butt down here."

Ororo pushed some of the shattered crystal out of the way, so she could kneel beside Logan. "I don't know what happened. One minute she was fine, and then…"

Hank dropped a hand on Ororo's shoulder. "My blue butt's here, Logan. What happened?" As he knelt down, Carnal cringed away from him, dragging herself through the crystal shards and closer to Logan. The fear that glistened in her eyes softened McCoy's expression. No matter what he did, she was always terrified of him.

"Check out her knee, Hank," Logan gave a chin jerk in that direction. He gathered Carnal up, taking care to get a good grip on each of her wrists. The scratches on her arms were healing as he watched, knitting up cleanly on her forearms and elbows.

"Take it easy, Carnal," Hank said softly. "I'm not going to make this any worse." He reached out, and touched her knee lightly. She hissed, and kicked out with her other leg, mercifully missing Hank completely. Logan shifted slightly, balancing on one leg as he kicked his other out, pinning her ankle beneath his. His growl echoed Carnal's, and she twisted feebly in his grip. Hank took a long breath. "This is going to hurt, kiddo."

Hank's long fingers wrapped around her calf, his other hand pressed down on her thigh. Gently he rotated her calf, all the while probing with his fingers. Carnal hiccupped, and buried her face in Logan's shoulder. After another gentle twist, Hank smiled grimly. He lifted her knee, bending it until he felt it give. With a sharp pop, her joint settled back into its socket. Carnal whimpered softly into Logan's shoulder, as he shifted and released her.

Straightening, Hank stepped back to help Ororo pick up the largest of the glass shards. "That girl is going to hate me forever," McCoy muttered sullenly.

"She will not, Henry," the weather witch returned. "She will realize that you are only helping her."

Logan gathered the girl up carefully, and carried her into the living room. Setting her into one of the over-sized recliners, he gave her the suggestion to stay put for a while. Before he left though, he flicked on the electric fireplace, and dragged her chair over before it. Ruffling her hair, he returned to help Ororo and Hank with the morning preparations.

"I don't get it, Hank," he muttered as he fished a bowl off the top shelf for the fruit. "Why didn't she just heal it?"

"Have you noticed anything odd about her lately, Logan?" Henry emptied out the dustpan, and glanced over his shoulder.

Logan grunted, and shrugged. The girl spent more time climbing around and exploring the house than she spent with him lately. Sometimes, it made Logan jealous of the mansion. "Not really."

"Why, Henry?" Ororo asked, as she gathered silverware for the dining room table. "What did you notice?"

Henry hopped up on the counter to reach a pan, and jumped back down. He started the range and emptied out a package of sausage, and two cartons of eggs. "She fought me trying to move her leg, but her joints feel… out of whack."

"You mean, out of joint. Like, dislocated?" Logan had found his coffee pot, and was pouring his first mug.

"No. I'm not quite sure, but they just didn't feel right." Hank sighed. "Just keep an eye on her, Logan. You're the closest. She trusts you."

Logan chuckled. "She'd trust you too, Hank, if you didn't hurt her every time you touched her." McCoy paused, and turned slightly. He couldn't tell if that was sarcasm he heard in Logan's tone, or genuine disgust. Henry sighed again, hung his head, and went back to scrambling the eggs.

Sullen and silent, she rubbed her knee. The chair was comfortable, the fire warm, but she knew too well that this place was going to become a conflagration of sight and sound in just a few moments. Her funnel-shaped ears could already pick up the sounds of movement from upstairs. Children fighting over the bathroom. Children fighting with their alarms. She rubbed her knee again.

They were talking about her, behind her back. But running water and sizzling pans seemed determined to drown out their words. Again and again, she could hear her name. That name she hated. The name that the bright, ear-pinching fiends gave her in the salty place. Carnal. What kind of name was that? Carefully, she pulled her knees up to her chest, and wrapped herself protectively up in her arms. She wanted a better name. A real name. Like everyone else had.

But she knew she wasn't like everyone else. She could never be like everyone else. She scratched at her ear, and then stared at her hand, as it slowly, painfully altered back to five, long fingers. Had everything really been better in the salty place? Had one pain just come and replaced another? She flexed her hand, wincing at the sensation of grinding within.

And, just as she predicted, the other students came charging down the stairs, and the mansion was filled with the boundless energy of youth.


	5. Chapter 5

Note: if you haven't yet read "Prophetic Dreams," please do, as events in that story line affect events taking place here in "Feral Bindings."

Mnemosyne

The kids were doing really well. Perhaps, Logan hazarded, better than most of their recent exercises. Or maybe it was just him, maybe he'd finally gotten the hang of this whole teaching thing. It took about two seconds for Logan to dismiss that idea. He'd never get used to being a role model. He only paid half attention to the read-outs flickering on the screens as the kids ran through the Danger Room below him.

"Your little find has come quite a long way," Ororo observed gently. Logan felt his heart rate spike, as he glared sharply over his shoulder at the weather witch for entering so quietly. "It's amazing really. I did not think there was anything left of her to save."

Logan shrugged. "She just needed a little nurturing." But Logan found himself watching her down on the floor as he spoke. She leapt and dodged, and smiled, and played. It was all still a game to her. The hair on the back of his neck prickled; Ororo was watching him with _that_ look on her face. "What? I can be nurturing," came Logan's defensive answer.

Ororo laughed softly. Logan glanced at her again. Had he really detected a hint of uncertainty in her voice? Logan turned away from the kids, confident that they could finish the scenario. He crossed his arms over his chest as he regarded Ororo, coolly.

"Alright, 'Ro, what's up?" Logan could only take the suspense for so long. Something was rotten in the state of New York, and it seemed that the stately African was going to be the bearer of bad news.

"The Professor does not want you to overreact," Ororo winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Logan raised a brow, expectantly. "But he would like all the X-Men to meet him at the front gates."

Logan echoed her, bewildered, to which the weather witch simply shrugged. As Logan reached behind him to turn off the scenario, he snarled softly. Below the control chamber, the Danger Room disengaged, weapon turrets falling, spinning blades hissing to a halt. Confused, the students gathered in the center, and peered up.

"Why'd you stop the exercise? We were doin-"

"Top side, punks. We need to meet Charles at the gates." Logan growled through the microphone, cutting Cyclops off. Shadowcat and Nightcrawler glanced at one another, then at the feral crouched between them. Kitty felt an apologetic giggle surface at the expression of complete befuddlement on Carnal's face.

* * *

Bobby Drake was wiping his hands off as Logan approached the front gates. The wrought steel bars were intact; none of the lawns security measures had been activated. They hadn't been attack, so just what was going on?  
Curiously, Logan took an experimental sniff of the air, and caught a single scent that churned his stomach. "Sabretooth!" he snarled, his claws leaping from their housings in his forearms. The blast of pain was gone in an instant, as he shoved his way through the younger mutants. "Just what is he doing here?"

"Wolverine!" Xavier barked sharply, before the stocky savage could engage his nemesis. "Stay your hand, old friend. Sabretooth is in no condition to fight. Even if he were, this is a mission of peace, is it not?" Charles' last words were directed at the mountain of a man, leaning against a structure of ice.

Logan's gaze picked out the big man's most vulnerable points, noting where he should strike first to bring the beast down. One arm hung limp, useless against his side. Deep gashes and the pink puckers of bullet wounds seemed more than a week old, but given Sabretooth's uncanny healing, they could have been created less than a day before. Bullet holes riddled his long jacket, and even punctured his armored pads in many places. Creed's cold eyes settled on Logan, as if daring him to defy the wheelchair bound telepath.

"Yah," the blond grunted, fighting to get a big hand into his jacket. "I got somethin' fer the runt." Creed slurred; Logan figured his jaw had been busted by whatever had kicked his ass earlier. "I'm keepin' my promise. I'm done here."

The envelope he pulled from his jacket was wrinkled and beat. He tossed it to the ground, and labored to push himself off the ice block. As Jean drew the letter close with her mind, Sabretooth took his first shaky steps back down the road.

"You're just letting him go?" Logan demanded, running toward the open gate.

"I gave my word, Logan," Xavier warned, as he accepted the letter from Jean. "From what I gleaned off his surface thoughts, this letter should elucidate many circumstances. I want the older students to gather in my study. The rest of you have homework to attend to." The kids groaned as they began to disperse. Xavier took a moment to catch Jean's arm. "What did you sense from our visitor, Jean?"

The redhead stared off down the road. "Desperation," she sighed softly. "And fear, like he's lost something important."

"Good God, you have got to be joking!" Logan groaned, massaging his forehead. "Hello, this is _Sabretooth _we're all talking about here! The psychopath doesn't feel fear. He's tried to kill us, remember?"

Suddenly, Jean was giggling. Logan glanced around, broken from his tirade. Carnal had slipped to her quadruped stance, and crawled through Logan's splayed legs. Irritated at her suddenly, Logan snarled, and stepped back. The others wisely took the distraction, and made their way back inside.

But Carnal was tracking, sniffing around Logan's boots, then moving on. The feral girl circled the half-melted ice block, three times, never moving her nose more than an inch from the surface. Still tracking, she began to meander into the evening, until Logan called her name. Freezing, she looked back guiltily, before bounding back within the confines of the high walls.

Concerned, Logan lowered his hand, and helped Carnal bipedal. She squeezed his hand tightly as her bones popped and changed, until she stood straight beside him. Logan didn't release her hand as he drew her toward the mansion. He wondered if she had been trying to track Sabretooth, or if there was something he was missing. Carnal's left knee was making her limp again, but the girl continued to smile bravely through her pain.

* * *

"_Dear Charles Xavier,_" the Professor glanced at his students as he read the letter aloud. "_If you are reading this, then Mister Creed has kept his promise. I would have contacted you sooner, if I had not thoroughly believed that the woman seated between Mister Summers and Mister Logan was quite permanently dead. That just goes to show, even precogs can be wrong._"

"Precogs?" Logan interrupted, trying to be nonchalant as he scratched Carnal's ears. She purred lightly as she leaned into him.

"It's a form of telepathy that can see the future," Jean offered softly. "Whoever wrote this, might be the one Sabretooth lost?"

Xavier nodded, as Logan slid out of the couch to sit beside Carnal on the floor. "_Now that you know what I am, you should know where I come from. I spent most of my life in a home for terminally ill children. That is where I met the woman you all call Carnal. Her real name, what I knew her by a decade ago, is Alexia Tradys._"

Carnal reacted first, stiffening up under Logan's hand. Her golden eyes were wide, staring wildly at the Professor. Logan's hand smoothed her hair, trying to calm her down.

"Tradys?" Scott found his voice first. "But that was the name of that doctor, remember?"

"Easy, Scott, it seems there's more here," Xavier gently contained Scott's curiosity. He was however, increasingly worried about Carnal's growing fear. The feral girl trembled against Logan's side, while the poor man vibrated with anger.

"_Alexia is the key to a mystery that I cannot fathom. Please protect her. She is more important than I am, and I fear because I know where she is, soon he will too. If Alexia goes missing, you should first look at the Glenvale Hospital in Arlee, Montana. Do not let it deceive you. Thank you all. Kylie._"

"Kylie!" Kurt fairly fell off the arm of the couch. Jean shook her head slightly. "She was hanging out with Toad at school a week ago!"

"She was hanging out with the Brotherhood boys?" Scott scowled. "Maybe we should ask them what kind of sick prank they're pulling this time?"

"No, Scott," Xavier interposed as he folded the letter back up. "This is not a prank. This was included as well." He offered Logan a second sheet of paper, which Carnal intercepted.

She lay the sheet on the floor, allowing everyone a good view of the contents. Jean whispered a soft gasp as she recognized the art style. The images were jumbled and confused, often overlapping or abruptly ending to make way for another drawing. Carnal touched each image in turn. The gothic-style hospital, a small gathering of children. Her hand lingered on the girl depicted in a wheelchair, the girl who possessed Carnal's face.

Logan glanced at the Professor, who continued to watch Carnal's reactions carefully. "I think we know where to find our answers."

Xavier nodded. "Scott, first thing tomorrow morning, prep the Blackbird. We are going to Arlee."

* * *

"Wolverine, Henry, I would like you two to stay with Carnal in the Blackbird until we have assessed the situation here." Xavier's calmness felt contagious, or perhaps that was what he desired. "Jean and Scott will accompany me inside. Storm, take Kurt and Kitty for a walk around the grounds. Let me know if you find anything strange."

Logan crossed his arms as the ramp lowered from the back of the jet. Carnal moved for the fresh air, until Wolverine caught her arm. "Sorry, darlin', but we're stuck inside this time." Scott and Jean carefully loaded the Professor's wheelchair into the back of his sedan, while Logan leaned into the window.

"I know you don't like this, Logan," Xavier preempted the man's comments. "But it is necessary to evaluate this before we leap in. Don't worry, the camera will be running."

Oddly, Logan felt a sigh of relief lurking behind his lips. At least they'd get to watch what was going on, be able to react if something went badly. "Just be careful, Chuck. This smells like a trap to me."

"I know Logan. All answers come in good time." Xavier smiled, and folded his hands into his lap as Wolverine withdrew. Scott and Jean both tried to flash reassuring smiles as they slipped into the front seats. Logan turned back to Hank and Carnal.

_Alexia_, he reminded himself silently. She looked up at him, plainly worried, and emitted a soft whine. She knew where she was, and she was afraid. She quickly sat beside Logan as he settled in for a long, boring wait. Across the aisle, Hank grew concerned as Carnal massaged her knuckles.

* * *

"Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to see us, Dr. Tradys." Xavier extended his hand for the good doctor to shake.

"It is my pleasure, truthfully. I've read much about your humanitarian deeds." Tradys smiled, pleasantly, his pale eyes sparkling with joy. There was something in his inflection, something that Jean didn't quite like. "What can I help you with?"

Jean marveled at how much the feral girl looked like her father. His skin was bronze; his profile strong, and aquiline. Though his eyes were pale grey, everything else about his face screamed Native American. He was not tall, but he still carried an imposing air about him.

"I'm looking for information regarding one of your former patients," Xavier was saying. "I have reason to believe I may have encountered one of them, not very long ago, and I wish to help her overcome her troubles."

"Name her, whatever records I have available are yours," Tradys swiveled his chair to the small computer terminal beside him. He punched a few keys, and glanced back toward the three visitors.

"We believe her name to be Alexia Tradys."

Jean rolled her eyes slightly. Occasionally, the Professor was as subtle as a sledgehammer. Tradys was silent, staring in mute horror. His hands curled slowly into fists, as he stood slowly behind his desk.

"Did Essex put you up to this?" Tradys demanded, his eyes narrowed. "What kind of sick joke is this? My daughter is _dead_. I buried her twelve years ago." The man took a deep breath. "I want the three of you out of my hospital, now!"

"Please, Dr. Tradys, just hear us out," Jean begged as she stood up.

"No, Jean." Xavier interposed his hand. "He has made it quite clear that we are not welcome here. Perhaps another time, when the doctor has had a chance to think on our visit."

Jean turned her head away, refusing to look at any of the men in the room. Scott took her by the shoulder, and gently led her out of the office, followed slowly by Xavier. The bald man paused a moment to glance over his shoulder, and lock gazes with the distraught doctor.

"We only wish to help. Please, contact me if you change your mind."

"Get out." Tradys answered, pointing to the door. "Before I call security."

Xavier showed himself to the door, and left Tradys to sink sullenly into his chair. His electric wheelchair whirred softly as it carried Xavier down the corridor. Of all of the rooms lining the hallway, only one other was open. As Xavier glanced within, three identical faces stared back at him. The door shut moments afterward.

_Jean?_

_Yes, Professor?_

_Have you noticed, anything… strange?_ Xavier watched Jean glance around, smiling at two orderlies that shuffled by her.

_Besides the fact that everyone here walks like zombies? Or the fact that Tradys knows we told him the truth?_

Xavier smiled to himself. "Let's get back," he said as he caught up to the young adults. "I believe there is much more here than meets the eye."

* * *

"Wow, this place is, like, way creepy," Kitty muttered, rubbing her arms. Kurt nodded in agreement, and urged her to speed up a little. Neither of them wanted to get too far away from Ororo. "Ms. Munroe, what are we looking for, anyway?"

"I am not sure, Kitty," Ororo answered, moving purposefully across the manicured lawns. "But there are three more buildings back this way, set further into the hills." She pointed at a trio of barely visible eaves through the tree tops.

They continued walking, finally emerging from the woods onto a narrow, cobbled path. Glancing at the two youths, Ororo turned left and headed them deeper into the hills. After another two bends in the path, they finally could see what lay ahead of them. What they had thought was three buildings, was a single enormous one. High-gabled eaves, and steeply pitched roof, gave the structure a slightly sinister appearance.

Up the path, closer to the manse, a man in a white lab coat spun. His eyes appeared red in the filtered light of the woods. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, advancing upon their position. Kurt took a step back. "This area is off-limits! Can't you read the signs?"

Ororo held her hands up in supplication. "I am sorry," she began, making a gesture to encompass the two youngsters. "I was merely taking my students for a nature hike, and we became disoriented. I was wondering if you happened to have a phone we could use."

The man shook his head violently, dark bangs flopping to cover his forehead. "No phone here. No phone on the premises at all." For a few long moments, everything was silent. "That way." He pointed back down the path. "Go that way."

Turning his back on the trio, the man hurried for the front door of the huge manse. Ororo waited as he unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The air around them filled with sound as the door swung wide. As soon as it latched shut again, the forest was silent. No birds chirped in the tall trees.

"Vere… vere those people screaming?" Kurt asked anxiously. "Please tell me that vas my imagination."

The weather witch looked down at him apologetically. "I do not think that was your imagination, Kurt. Let us get back; I believe we may have found what the Professor was looking for."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I'm so sorry it's taken me this long to update this fic. Life got in the way, my brain wandered, and I had lost all my notes, which had to be reconstructed from scratch. But anyway, here it is. Part One of the Two-part Finale, included in its entirety upon both sides of my X-Men/Brotherhood coin. I hope you enjoy.

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Sinister Secrets

"LAND!" Todd Tolensky leapt from his orb to hug the nearest tree. "Oh, God, if I never travel like that again, yo, it'll be too soon!" Pressing his face against the rough bark, he kept glancing behind him, to make sure that the rest of the Brotherhood were still there. The woods were eerie, dark and scary. He detached himself from the tree as soon as he felt his legs would support him.

The rest of the Brotherhood seemed pretty steady on their feet. Creed hadn't even paused when he exited. He was already scenting the air, allowing, only for brief seconds, his eyes to close. Todd hopped over to the others, feeling better once he was hidden behind Freddy's bulk. The silence seemed thicker than cottage cheese, until Todd leaned slightly over to Wanda.

"Think I can ride wit'chu home?" he asked as innocently as he could muster.

She simply leveled her dark eyes in his direction, and he flinched, expecting the worse. With a casual flick of her hand, Wanda caused a thick tree branch to break off from its trunk, and crash violently to the ground within feet of Todd's flamingo-like stance. He swallowed, as he cracked one eye slowly open. He didn't even get a chance to 'cuddlebumps' her, before Creed growled low and soft in his throat.

Everyone stopped, and turned slightly, to watch him. Creed moved forward a few more steps, flaring his nostrils as he scented the air again. "Quicksilver." The blur of silver stopped abruptly beside the outstretched hand. "The X-punks are here. Find them. I want to know what they're doing."

As Quicksilver disappeared in a whorl of leaves, Creed began to move off into the woods, carefully choosing a path through the trees. The Brotherhood kids all glanced at one another, before Lance motioned them onward. They really didn't have a choice, after all. After a few moments of following wordlessly, Todd cleared his throat.

"Uh, so, Mister Sabretooth?" At the question in the boy's voice, Creed paused, grunting as he peered back over his shoulder at the scrawny kid. "So like, how do we find Kylie? We don't even know where to look."

"She'll find us," Sabretooth grunted. At least, that's what he hoped. He kept calling her name silently, hoping that maybe a stray bit of telepathy would connect them. Guilt fueled his limbs. He had promised to keep her alive. He had promised to keep her safe. And he had let her down. Creed had hardly traversed six paces, when Quicksilver was back, leaning on a tree. He jabbed a finger over his shoulder, indicating shallower out of the woods.

"The Jet's that way, with a car, and a whole lotta commotion."

Creed merely nodded, and turned in the indicated direction. The action brought around a chorus of dismay from the kids tagging behind him, but with his usual stoic stubbornness, the man known as Sabretooth just kept walking.

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"What do you mean she was _right there_, Hank? Where is she now?" A vein pulsed at Logan's temple as he fought to control the urge to rip Beast's blue-furred throat out. Logan's hand pointed accusingly at the empty chair to his left, where moments before, his feral rescue had been curled up.

Admirably, Hank didn't cower under the brunt of Logan's barely restrained fury. He was slight nervous however, one couldn't help it when one thought of the sensation of those slick adamantium blades cutting across jugulars. Hank shook the imagery off, and gestured to the screens. "I turned away for only a minute, to respond to the Professor and Jean. When I looked back, I presumed she had gone searching for you."

Logan started guiltily at that. He had after all been the one to venture out first, taking a perimeter sweep. But then, he had never been out of sight of the Blackbird, so where had she gone? Turning away from Hank with a half-hearted snarl, Logan sniffed around the cargo ramp for a few moments. Carnal had gone down the ramp, he discovered, her musky scent still fresh on the metal. But within a few feet of the ramps base, the scent simply, and completely vanished. Logan backtracked suddenly, nearly tripping over Hank. A breeze rustled the leaves around them, as Scott carefully parked the sedan beneath the Blackbird's starboard wing.

Logan was at the professor's door even before Jean could get the wheelchair out of the trunk. "She's gone. The scent just vanishes. Teleporter, most likely. Chuck, we gotta move."

Xavier held his hand up. "We must wait for Ororo."

"No!" Logan cut off any other words that Xavier may have had to calm the raging mutant. But even as he took a step backwards, to allow Xavier to move into his wheelchair, Logan became aware of something else entirely. Of six shapes moving out of the forest, toward the jet and sedan. Logan spun, unsheathing his claws, and expecting the worse.

What he got, was far more unpleasant than what he wanted.

"Sabretooth," the snarl was unleashed through clenched teeth. Wolverine set himself to attack, but drew up short as the other figures resolved themselves. The Brotherhood kids, all moving with their hands in plain view, dogging Sabretooth's steps with quiet confusion.

"I'm not here to fight _you_, pipsqueak," Creed began without preamble. "I'm here for the Prophet, and you're here for answers to your little love-puppy's past. So lets just cooperate and get this over with."

"Why Sabretooth, I've never heard you this reasonable," Xavier quipped softly, and he motioned for Scott to push him forward. Wisely, Scott positioned the Professor between the two mortal adversaries, while Logan bristled at the blonde's condescending tone.

"Look," Avalanche stepped forward as well, moving up to stand beside Sabretooth in a bold bid for the dominance of the moment. "We just want to find Kylie, to bring her home." Creed's eyes shifted to glance once at the boy, but returned after a moment to focus on Logan.

"This may work out for our benefit," Xavier mused softly. "Can you and Wolverine put aside your differences long enough to seek out our missing members?" The question was pointed at Sabretooth, even though Xavier already knew the answer. Behind him, Logan shifted uncomfortably, glowering. "You two have the best chance of getting inside the buildings unseen. While Cyclops and the rest, cause a distraction with Tradys, and attempt to… perhaps pressure some information out of him?"

There was a gleam in his eye that Scott knew well. Cyclops nodded, and glanced at the Brotherhood boys. He'd attempted to play leader with them once before, and it hadn't worked out well. This time, he was just supposed to keep them busy. Busy destroying things apparently.

Xavier was the only one who was aware of Storm's quiet approach from the rear. Kitty and Kurt merged with the group the seeming ease, even though Kitty couldn't help but glare in Lance's direction. Ororo lay her hand gently on Hank's shoulder as she moved forward to stand between he and Logan.

"There is a building to the north, older than the rest. It sounded as though there were screams coming from within." Even with Ororo's natural gentleness, the news still hit both feral's hard, worst case scenarios drifting through their minds. Finally, they begrudgingly agreed to assist one another.

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So it came about that Xavier remained behind at the Blackbird, with Beast, monitoring the progress of all individuals. The Scarlet Witch, Toad, and Quicksilver stalked after Cyclops and Jean, while the rest moved out to check on various other buildings. There was no room for subtlety in Cyclops' mind any longer; he burst into the main lobby of the mental institute without a care. Civilians scattered, most breaking for the front door, while a few others ducked into side rooms. On his heels, Jean frowned in concentration, seeking Tradys' mental signature through the hospital as he scurried around.

"He's ended up in his office," she whispered softly, as Cyclops paused for a moment. Ahead of them, Wanda and Toad were gleefully taking care of the few security officers and orderlies that had showed up. Quicksilver was at their side occasionally, moving so quickly he seemed to disappear from one point, and reappear at another.

Cyclops herded them all with practiced ease, though he had to dodge a few hexes thrown in his direction. As they turned the corner into the hallway that Tradys' office was located at, everything seemed to fall dead silent. Their foot falls no longer made noise, nor did the creak and rustle of their clothing. Jean scowled, and mouthed a few words. Beneath his visor, Scott's brow furrowed. No sound had exited Jean's throat.

Glancing behind them, it seemed that Tolensky was taking this opportunity to mouth a serious string of explicatives in Quicksilver's general direction. Cyclops held up his hand to stopped the four others, as he tried to puzzle out the whys. He didn't have to puzzle for too long, as two figures stepped out of opposing rooms.

They both wore hospital gowns, pale blue knee-length things, with the name of the mental hospital embroidered over the heart. The girl was horribly scarred, her face was a mass of melted flesh, that had sealed one eye forever closed, her right arm was curled uselessly against her chest, and her right leg was held straight by a series of metal braces around her thigh and knee. The single eye that was visible rolled occasionally, unfocused and bloodshot.

The man, slightly older than his companion, was in much better condition. He bore tattoos along both arms, yet rivulets of fresh scarlet leaked out of his hair and traced marks down his face. His hair seemed to be the problem, as he possessed a proverbial crown of thorns with the long, needlelike structures buried deep within his scalp. His eyes were lucid, focused, and latched right upon Jean.

He motioned once, and it began. Thousands of vines shot up from the floor, and walls, wrapped in thick red leaves, and savage inch-long thorns. They sprouted from beneath the feet of the mutants without so much as a sound. Quicksilver bolted into action, spinning around in place while the vines bounced harmlessly off the pocket of air he was creating by his rapidity. The Witch lobbed successive hexes into the briars, and grew relieved as they forgot their targets and milled listlessly about. Toad put his acrobatics to good use as he dodged thrusting vines, by bouncing off the wall and even, at one point, clinging precariously to the ceiling.

Jean lifted herself and Scott above the fray in a telekinetic bubble. Scott was taking aim against the man, when the second assault slammed into their minds. The girl had focused, only for a single second, and every sound that had transpired since their movement into the hallway, came slamming into their skulls in the span of a single heartbeat. Everyone staggered in agony, clutching their heads, and raised their voices in unison, screaming their pain out. Jean swore she heard a giggle echo within her ringing ears.

Jean's temper flared as first Wanda, then Toad were grabbed by the puncturing vines. Toad yelped and whined, kicking feebly against the thorns that tore through his jeans, and threatened to strip the skin from his shins. Wanda threw hex after hex, rapidly feeling the strain, while the thorns couldn't get through the smart leather outfit she always wore on these occasions. Jean's red hair floated around her for a minute, as she focused her telepathy upon the two. With a single sharp, jab, the girl fell, telepathically subdued with the force of Jean's willpower. The sound returned to normal in the hallway, the reverberating echo slowly fading away.

Cyclops freed the two trapped Brotherhood mutants, with focused blasts of his power. Then he turned his attention to the male mutant ahead of them, one well aimed shot clipped the guy in the temple, and sent him spinning into oblivion beside the scarred girl. Pietro and Scott tossed the two unconscious ones back into their respective rooms, and Scott only paused long enough to weld the metal door shut with the heat from his visor. Grinning grimly, he shoved Tradys' office door wide open.

Tradys appeared to have been expecting them. He sat behind his desk, slumped forward while his forehead rested in his hands. Between his elbows, resting upon a sheaf of loose paper, lay a small revolver. It's chamber was cracked open, as though it had been abandoned halfway through the loading process. He looked up slowly as the door opened, his dark eyes tired and resigned.

"I knew you would be back," he said quietly, shoulders heaving in a silent added sigh. "People like you always find out the truth. I tried to keep her safe, I really did. I thought she would be safe with Vincent."

Cyclops choked back a sound, while Jean stepped forward. "Vincent? You mean Vincini? You _gave_ your daughter to him?"

"He was supposed to protect her!" Tradys' large hands slapped hollowly upon the desk as he stood up. "To keep her away from Essex, so the man wouldn't hurt her anymore!"

"Essex? Ya mean the crazy freak what's been after Kylie?" Toad piped up from the back as he piqued. "So where's Kylie, yo? We find her, we blow his pop stand."

"The McManus girl?" Tradys eyes narrowed for a moment. "She's here too? Essex didn't mention her."

"Why did you lie to us earlier?" Cyclops demanded, unhappily.

"Essex was listening in then. I couldn't risk him knowing I was going to help my girl escape again." As if at some private joke, Tradys laughed softly. "My girl. She'll be twenty-eight in November… hardly a girl anymore." As he moved around his desk, the gathered mutants tensed up. "Please, let me help you. I know where they're keeping Alexia. And I think I know what Essex may be doing with Ms. McManus."

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They couldn't decide who would lead and who would follow. Neither man had spoken a word since they climbed through the half-open window. Their bickering was completely posture, and glances, and, boy, did the two of them have some nasty glares. It felt like the entire upper levels of the mansion-like building were empty. A thin coating of dust coated the floor, making signs of their passage extremely visible. Creed wanted to go down, while Logan insisted on checking every room on the top three floors. At each set of stairs, they exchanged venomous glares, and stared one another down.

Sometimes, Creed won, and they bypassed rooms, but other times, Logan got the better hand, and a very thorough search was conducted. Creed could feel the time crawling by like the sweat the crept down his face. As they were faced with the final door, the door that would presumably lead them down into the basement, Creed tilted his head to one side slightly. In less than a second, Logan had adopted the same pensive expression. They could both hear it. Screaming. A low, muffled sound coming from below.

Creed reached forward and wrapped his giant hand around the knob, turning it slowly. And then it was there, like a bullet lodged inside his brain that was fighting to work its way against his healing factor. His hand convulsed on the grip, muscles all the way up his arm spasming as he felt the intruder crawling inside his mind. In a moment, it resolved itself, however, into no intruder, but the very presence and sense of the young Prophet, filling his thoughts. And she was begging incoherently for help, it seemed. Rage pumped through his system, blinding him to Logan's quiet growl.

The door was fully in Creed's hands when he came to his senses, the metal crumpled and twisted by the force that he ripped it from its moorings. He stared at the metal shape as he fought to resolve the residual thoughts, the memory of Kylie's frantic cries. Finally, he managed to force himself to release the door, tossing it loudly to one side. Logan groaned at the clatter of metal against metal.

"I know where she is. Follow me," Creed snarled, and struck out down the hallway before Logan could even get a chance to respond. After a second's hesitation, Logan began to run in Creed's wake, wondering just how far they would get before resistance began. Oddly, nothing stepped out of the nearby doorways, or corridors. Sounds followed them, as they passed rooms obviously occupied by patients. Chains rattled, strange gutteral howls rolled after them. But Creed led his mortal enemy unerringly through the maze of corridors, until he pulled up short just before one particular room.

Creed sniffed, scenting the air and pacing momentarily back and forth like a caged animal. She was here, h e could smell her. He could practically taste her fear in the air. Logan's nose wrinkled slightly as he too, picked up the scent. There was a soft _skinkt _as Wolverine's claws popped out of their housing upon his forearms.

"There's a quieter way to open doors," he growled softly at the big blonde. The length of his claws inserted around the door jam and slide effortlessly around the three sides. Creed caught the door as it loosened in its moorings, and once more, set it to the side.

Gloom greeted their eyes, giving both ferals a pause before they stepped within. Once their eyes had adjusted to the gloom, they peered inside, Creed looking left, Logan peering right. Creed froze, and wished that he hadn't looked. Reaching back, he grabbed Logan's arm, to call his attention to the one-way mirror that dominated the left wall.

The sight through the mirror made Creed tremble with fury. His hands balled so tightly that his own claws dug into the soft flesh of his palm. Kylie was alone in the adjacent room, dirty and tattered, her clothes and arms still bearing scorch and burn marks from the explosion of her Jeep. She was standing directly in front of the mirror, her eyes wide, and unfocused. Her mouth constantly formed words that neither feral mutant could hear, but they were words that drove her hand.

She was writing on the walls. In fact, the mirror seemed to be the only surface that she had not filled yet. It was Logan's turn to grab Creed's arm, to prevent him from jumping to rash action, as it became apparent just what Kylie was using to write with. She paused, only long enough to bite the fingertips of her left hand, feverishly consumed by the need to write to finish whatever obscure thing she was scrawling in her own blood.

"It's a formula," Logan breathed quietly, as he watched the reverse of her writing. "A complex one." Logan nearly staggered as Creed wrenched his arm away.

"Don't care," he grunted, and put the full force of his weight behind a punch to the mirror. The material bowed beneath the blow, but did not break. Logan simply stared until Sabretooth resorted to using his claws, ripping and tearing at the substance until it began to spiderweb and crack. Upon the other side, Kylie carried on as though the wall had never moved, her entire body was twitching as she poured out her mind onto the canvas. Finally, Logan popped his claws once more, and levered Sabretooth aside. Excising a clean hole in the mirror with the adamantium, Logan stepped back to let the larger man through first.

What unfolded before him, froze the mutant in his tracks, as he could only stare in disbelief at the expression that his mortal enemy wore.

It bordered somewhere between fear, and uncertainty. Never had Sabretooth looked more vulnerable than the moments that he was looking at the girl called Prophet. Creed stretched his hands out, moving them to place one upon each of her shoulders, when she suddenly spun, and slapped him full on in the face.

"No!" she shouted. "Have to finish!" There was something horribly strained in her voice, something that raised the hairs on the back of Logan's neck. Creed snarled low in his throat, but he didn't attack the girl. His face obviously stung from the slap, and he struggled to control the temper that surged within him.

"Frail! Kylie!" He began to call her name, hoping she would respond to him. But the girl faced the mirror once more, savagely tearing at her fingertips with her teeth until fresh blood flowed. The feverish glaze in her eyes perhaps made Logan think she was drugged. Cautiously, the short mutant stepped through the hole in the mirror.

"We gotta get her to the Prof," he warned in a low tone. Creed didn't seem to react, but he began to approach the girl again.

"I promised I'd take care o'ya… so.. I'm sorry 'bout this," Sabretooth apologized before he struck, hitting her low in the back with the full force of his fist. Kylie crumpled like a little rag doll, her legs gone numb from the blow. In one swift move, Creed had her cradled in his arms, his nostrils flaring as he tried to resist the siren call of his bloodlust. Kylie's fingers wouldn't stop moving, tracing equations in the air, and upon Creed's arm. But she whimpered, and curled the fingers of her right hand, loosely around the lapel of his jacket.

_Chuck, we got the girl._ Logan directed his thought outward, to find the telepath.

Xavier responded with a mental smile. _Good. Bring her to the Blackbird. Cyclops and Jean have found where they are keeping Carnal._

_

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_Post Note: Be sure to read the other half of the plot: either Kylie's story, or Carnal's story, depending on which you've read first!


	7. Chapter 7

Sinister Secrets

Part 2

Logan paused before relaying the mental command to Creed. Something on the wall caught his eye. Stepping further into the small chamber, Logan turned slowly in a full circle. Amid the equation were diagrams, a female form laid out as a Da Vinci model. Arrows pointed here and there to parts, areas were circled with notations as to something being located there, an apparently random string of four letters. "A", "G", "C" and "U". Logan bit his lower lip as Creed began to carry Kylie from the chamber.

Finally, he made a snap choice. "Creed, get her back to Xavier. In the Blackbird. I'm going for Carnal."

Creed only grunted, holding Kylie's head against his shoulder protectively. Within moments, the big mutant was long gone, and Logan remained alone with the formulae. He didn't know all that much about what he saw there, but he prayed, that what he suspected wasn't true. Putting out a mental call for Jean, Logan jumped back through the hole in the mirror, and headed off in the opposite direction Creed took.

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Kitty Pryde was upset. Mostly because she was being forced to work with Avalanche, but her surroundings made things no easier on her. According to the directions that Jean was relaying to Storm, their new shapeshifter friend was locked away down in one of the many tunnels connecting the various buildings of the complex. Ororo was beginning to get uneasy; her claustrophobia was fighting valiantly against her leadership skills. How deep did the tunnels go? Just how far down was the laboratory located? And just when would Jean, Cyclops and Wolverine join the expedition?

Moments after she wondered it, a side-tunnel disgorged Jean and Cyclops. They had been running full tilt, and skidded to a stop slightly out of breath. Lance scowled beneath his face-shield. The other Brotherhood mutants were no longer dogging their footsteps.

Jean took a few moments to catch her breath, before waving everyone forward again. "Let's keep moving, we don't have any time to waste."

Lance's mouth popped open for a smart-alecky remark, but Kitty shoved her elbow hard into his ribs, forcing him to dance aside with a muffled curse. Glaring at the petite brunette as she jogged past him, Lance continued to mutter under his breath, and finally dogged after the X-Men's footsteps.

Ororo was struck with it first. The floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet; her head spun violently out of whack. She tried to put one foot before the other, but the floor shifted again, in the other direction, and she went down, hard. Barely catching herself with her hands, Storm tried to shake the dizzy spell off. But a string of confused cries caught her attention, glancing back, Storm witnessed as all the teens swayed on their feet, some falling, some catching themselves on the stark metal walls.

"Did you really think you could just waltz in here and take the prize?" The voice was sarcastically feminine, bouncing off the walls so it seemed to come from all around them. "It's amazing what a little technology will do…"

A trio of figures shimmered into view. The speaker stood at the forefront, her hands on her hips. Her hair was a myriad of shades, ranging from gold to green in stripes and swirls and patches. Her eyes were indefinable, as any attempt to meet that gaze was met with another wave of vertigo. One of the two men flanking her held a small box, which began to shift and change before their confused eyes. Where he had held a box with dials a moment before, the man hefted a large submachine gun the moment after. Though his face wore no expression, his eyes held a smirk of triumph. The final man was small, dark featured, and glistening with a sheen of sweat. He laughed.

"Hit 'em again, Vertigo.. I like watchin' 'em fall," came the grimaced remark. Vertigo joined him in laughter, and raised a single hand toward the fallen X-Men.

Storm had shaken her head somewhat clear, and saw the threat impending. Flinging her own hand out, she adjusted the air-pressures in the narrow corridor, to create a gale-force wind, aimed in the trio's direction. The sudden gust swept Vertigo off her feet before she could use her powers, while the two men hunkered down with their arms before their faces. Miraculously, they withstood the blast, by only being pushed backward a few feet.

The submachine gun rattled loudly in the hallway. It fired not bullets, but searing points of energy that hit the walls and melted right through the metal and stone. Nightcrawler vacated the vicinity in a flash of light and sound, while Kitty lunged forward to grab both Avalanche and Storm, phasing them both out before they could be hit. Jean protected Cyclops with a telekinetic shield, causing a few of the energy projectiles to rebound away.

Nightcrawler reappeared beside the man with the gun, and quickly grabbed the barrel of the weapon. "**_Auf Wiedersehen_!" **he quipped with a cheery wave, before teleporting away once more, removing the entire gun from the man's hands.

"Riptide, get them!" The man snarled taking a full step back. He lowered his hands to part of his armor, and the metal began to ripple and reshape beneath his touch. The woman was shaking off the gale-force blow, and she waved a hand in the direction of the X-Men.

Another debilitating wave of dizziness rocked through them all. Jean wavered in mid-air, and Cyclops was only just able to catch her. Kitty cried out, and fell atop Storm, while Lance dropped to his knees. Kurt popped in, and popped back out just as fast, leaving behind him a stench of brimstone. He popped up behind Vertigo once more, and did the first thing he could think of. He grabbed her multi-colored hair, and yanked as hard as he could.

She let loose a screech, and swung an elbow in his direction. Meanwhile, the man called Riptide had spun up to full power, literally. His body was a blurred vortex, leaving only his head visible above the tornado's top. Suddenly, things began to fly out of the vortex, sticking into walls with heavy-sounding thunks, and whizzing past ears and bodies quicker than could be seen.

One grazed across Avalanche's shoulder armor, leaving a deep gouge in the metal. His eyes growing wide with mortal terror, Lance dug down deep inside him and twisted his fists in the air. The earth began to rumble, the floor started shaking. Kitty cried out.

"Lance, don't!" She grabbed his arm, breaking his concentration. "You'll bring the whole place down on top of us!"

Growling, Lance shook her off, and redirected his efforts. The techno-master nearly had his second weapon completed, so Avalanche pointed his fist in the man's direction, and sent a shock-wave of force to knock him off his feet. Once he was down, Storm stretched out a hand, and called a lightning bolt out of thin air to incapacitate him. The thunder in the closed space was nearly deafening.

Vertigo was reeling from Nightcrawler's constant teleporting. The stench was almost enough to make her gag, but it was the hair-pulling that infuriated her. The thunderclap left her ears ringing savagely, and she was unable to pinpoint Nightcrawler's next teleport. Kurt appeared right beneath her, and hit her with a teeth-rattling uppercut.

Riptide was still laughing. "Get that close to me, and you'll get cut to ribbons!" He spun towards the main group of mutants, flinging a volley of knives from within the vortex. Cyclops managed to spear most of them with his optics before they reached anyone, but when he turned the ruby blast on the actual vortex, it reflected, punching a divot in the metal wall nearby.

Kitty almost screamed as a pair of arms scooped her up from behind. "Let's go, half-pint," Logan growled right in her ear. He was sprinting right for the swirling vortex of doom, with Kitty tucked securely beneath his left arm. She acted reflexively, phasing both of them insubstantial.

With a roar, Logan jumped into the vortex to confront a startled Riptide. Once inside, he dropped Kitty so that he was solid once more. As she began to sink out of sight, she could see the flesh of Logan's arms getting torn to shreds, but not before those claws had unsheathed right into Riptide's guts.

Kitty re-emerged from the floor, breathless, in time to watch the vortex disappear, and the dark man to drop solidly to the ground, a pool of scarlet spreading from his back. Wolverine's arms were already healing, the slashes and cuts puckering together into pink scars, which just as rapidly faded into nothing.

Cyclops never figured he'd have been so happy to see the man in his life. But Wolverine wasted no time in greetings, as he leaned down to pick Storm back up to her feet. Swiveling slightly, Logan jabbed a thumb at Jean.

"Make sure they ain't wakin' up anytime soon," he ordered before continuing to stalk down the hallway.

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She had never been more terrified in her life. She was tied down, humiliated and spread-eagle upon a cold metal slab. Two men constantly circled her; they both watched her carefully. One possessed slanted, almond-shaped eyes, and skin that was more yellow than her own. His clothes were crisp, and clean, and smelt freshly laundered. Well, she had been able to smell that, before he had touched her. The contact between his skin and hers had been agony, as though everything in her body had wanted to shut down all at once.

And no matter how hard she tried, she could not get her hands to reshape, to slim out, so she could escape these bonds. She could not smell the fresh soap, or the antiseptic of the clean room. Nothing worked. That scared her more than the array of cutting objects that lay close by her right side.

The second man was more frightening in a way. He wore a perfectly white coat, his hair was cut the perfect length to accent the widow's-peak descending his forehead. A small mark lingered between his brows, like a scar, in a perfect diamond-shape. The second man's eyes shifted constantly between different screens located on the farthest wall of the chamber.

"Threnody, tell me my Marauders have succeeded?" he asked suddenly, of a cloaked figure seated before the monitors.

The figure shook its head. "Arclight still follows the one who stole the Prophet. Riptide, Vertigo and Headhunter have all fallen."

The man snarled. "Send in Harpoon, and Blockbuster. I want them stopped."

"Yes, Lord Essex." Threnody nodded slightly, and leaned over the keyboard.

Essex paced once more, between the monitors and the table. Once by the table, he paused and reached out to run a pale hand along Carnal's cheek. "I only have half my answer," he purred softly. "But perhaps that is enough…"

Carnal could only whimper as he lifted the first of many implements from the tray beside her.

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"This intersection isn't part of the map," Jean muttered peering left, then right down the two forks before her. "It's supposed to continue straight ahead, for at least another hundred yards." A dark line appeared as her brows knit together. She hated thinking that they had been duped, when Tradys had seemed so sincere.

Cyclops followed Jean's gaze down both forks. "We'll just have to split up." He decided. "Storm, take Avalanche, Nightcrawler and Jean up the left fork. Wolverine, Shadowcat and myself will take the right fork. Keep an open channel, Jean, we'll call if we find anything."

The redhead nodded, her lips pursing as she wished Cyclops to be careful. With a slight laugh, she figured that he was in good hands, with Logan to protect him, and Kitty to keep his spirits up. Storm nodded and motioned for Lance to follow after Jean. The Brotherhood boy cast a furtive glance at Kitty, but found she ignored him like always.

With a huff, Avalanche set off after the other three members of his impromptu group. And shoved all thoughts of stupid mundane life into the back of his head.

------------- -------------------- -------------------- ------------------- ---------------------

Sabretooth was being followed. And he couldn't do a thing about it. He had known of his pursuant since he kicked down the front door of the building, and burst into the forests dappled sunlight. He had to keep Kylie safe, that was his first, and all consuming thought. She was so small and light, that he could cradle her against his chest with one arm, allowing his other free to push aside branches and protect her head from the few he couldn't get in time.

And he ran. As fast as his long, loping stride could take him, he ran. The runt had told him to bring the girl back to the X-Men's jet. Creed knew, reluctantly, that, in the presence of the telepath, would be the safest place for her. Suddenly, out of the forest before him, was something blue and furry, and nearly as wide as Creed himself.

The Beast. Hank McCoy. Creed pulled up short, before running the blue furry one over. Both of his hands curled around Kylie protectively, as Creed struggled to regain his breath. Beast glanced into the forest behind him, expecting a hundred demons on his tail. He was rewarded in the moment of silence, with a tremendous crash and the splintering sound of a felled tree. Creed felt his lips twist into a wry grin.

"Look…" Creed began, gently disengaging Kylie's death grip from his neck. "Get her back to Cue-ball. I'm gonna take care of that jabroni, quick and get back to ya."

There was almost a reverence in how Beast took the girl from him. Something in the way Creed had been holding her hinting at the preciousness of this particular cargo. Once she was secure in Beast's arm, Creed reached out once more to smooth a stray curl away from her face. He scowled as he turned away slipping away into the forest like a ghost.

Beast turned as well, and carefully carried the girl back toward the Blackbird. Her fingers reached up, wrapping into the thick fur that covered his chest. She struggled to open her eyes, but they showed only white upon each of her attempts. Beast tried to talk to her, to soothe and relax her, as he made his way up the ramp of the jet.

"Don't…. let 'im.." She rasped out at one point. "Death… darkness… everyone.. sick… Stop Legacy.."

"Stop what? And who, child?" Xavier inquired as he rolled into meet them in the Medbay. Beast shook his head, she had lapsed into unconsciousness again. Beast began to bandage her hands and fingers, while Xavier settled in to set up the other monitors. He brushed her forehead with his fingertips, trying to soothe her.

------------- ------------------ --------------------- ------------------ ---------------------- ------------

Creed took to the treetops. The massive pines didn't really afford him good cover, but he figured whoever dared to follow him wouldn't be looking up. Or expecting an attack from above. It didn't take him long to spot him. Or rather.. her. She was probably about Creed's size, with a rippling wall of muscle, and barely any hint that she was female. She sported a mohawk nearly a foot tall, and had apparently felled nearly a half dozen trees with her bare hands.

Creed's lips twisted into a grin as he prepared for a delicious showdown. Mentally counting to three, he then launched himself from his branch with a roar. The woman looked up at the sound, and an expression of sheer surprise passed over her features, right before Creed hit her full force with both fists.

----------- -------------- ---------------- ----------------- ----------------- ---------------------- -----

"Pan the Prophet's cell again. There must be something I am missing." Essex snarled as he leaned over Threnody's chair once more. His hands were stained deep red, causing Threnody to lean slightly away from him. Her fingers were thin and reedy as she stretched them forth from the cloak to turn a dial and thumb a switch. The main monitor showed a slow pan of the blood-writing scrawled over the walls of the cell. Quietly to himself, Essex mumbled softly.

Threnody's eyes watched the other screens as well. She watched Arclight's battle with the massive mutant known as Sabretooth. She saw Blockbuster and Harpoon engage the would-be rescuers, but furrowed her brow at two other monitors that showed nothing but static.

"Lord Essex," she whispered before me moved away. A wavering gesture at the two monitors brought Essex's attention to bear. He scowled. "We are being approached," Threnody murmured, as she hit a few buttons and called up other camera views. As she had feared, around a nearby corner, three figures emerged, after a momentary brilliant ruby flash, that screen as well, went to static.

"Lower the blast doors, Threnody. No one can get to my little virus lab." As the lab was cut in half by the foot thick walls of steel, Essex straightened his lab coat, and stepped back. "Threnody, Scrambler, they are all yours."

The Asian Scrambler glanced over as Threnody began to get up from her seat. When he glanced back to ask Essex one more question, he found the good doctor had melted into the darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

Sinister Secrets

Part Three

Scrambler remained apart from Threnody, touching her would be detrimental for the both of them. His fingertips tingled, eager to see what sort of powers he would have to mess around with. Threnody meanwhile began to charge up. She fed off of pain, taking that purely visceral sensation and turning it slowly into a plasma charge. There was certainly no shortage of it, being surrounded by Essex's experiments. Her hands began to glow faintly.

Oddly enough, they didn't break through the door. Instead, the trio of intruders simply walked straight through the wall. Threnody clapped her hands together, pointed her thumb and forefinger like a gun, and let fly with her first plasma charge. It exploded harmlessly in midair, shot down by a ruby blast.

Kitty had barely managed to let them go, before Cyclops and Wolverine were both on the offensive. Wolverine instantly went after the Asian, who dodged his first few blows like an old pro. Cyclops hit the dark-skinned lady with a few well aimed shots, causing her to spin around, and collapse over the chair. Scrambler feinted with a jab, and managed to somehow catch Wolverine with an uppercut. Bare skin contacted, and Wolverine felt like someone had poured Tabasco sauce under his flesh. Unleashing a howl of rage, Wolverine went into overdrive before anyone could stop him. In moments, Scrambler was lying bleeding on the floor.

Kitty managed to wedge herself between the unconscious Threnody and the bank of monitors. She found Jean and the others mopping up after their own little skirmish, while on another monitor, outside, Sabretooth calmly threw someone's body into the trees. The scream of metal against metal brought her attention back around to this current room. Wolverine was trying to claw his way past a set of shiny metal doors, without any luck.

"Kitty," Scott didn't have to say much more. Phasing her hands, Kitty passed them both through the console deck before her. The electronics popped and fizzled, and with a hiss of hydraulic pressure, the doors began to move. Cyclops readied his visor, his fingertips on the lever that would open the quartz shutter to unleash his devastating optic blasts. Wolverine crouched down low, teeth bared, and claws at the ready. The doors seemed to take an agonizingly long time to open.

No adversary rose to greet them; the only sign someone had been in the room was the crumpled white lab coat on the floor, spattered and stained with blood. Logan lunged forward, covering the distance to the operating slab in a single bound. His hand came down upon a cloud of charcoal-colored hair, while his other gripped the edge of the slab.

"No... no..." he whispered, unable to make a louder sound.

Kitty stepped up beside Scott, and both were reluctant to venture further. After a moment, Scott put his arm around her, and squeezed gently. Logan began to lower his head, his brow furrowing. The damage to Carnal's body was... beyond severe. She lay naked and humiliated, cut open from her sternum to her pelvis. She had been closed clumsily, the cut up parts of her flesh hastily pinched together. Bloody hand prints still lingered on the stainless equipment.

Vivisected. The word Hank used lingered loudly in his ears. Logan's fist tightened around her hair. But then, so softly, he believed at first that he was dreaming, he heard a tiny whimper of pain. The smooth lines of Carnal's face screwed up. His eyes widening, Logan looked abruptly at Scott and Kitty.

"Get someone! Get anyone!" he shouted, voice gone hoarse from stress.

Kitty jumped, phasing at the sudden noise. She grabbed Scott and dragged him away, running back through the corridors. Somewhere along the way, they joined back up with Ororo and the rest. One look at the panicked children, and Storm split off once more. Kitty forgot how mad she was at Avalanche for a moment, and threw her arms around him, in a tight hug. Confused, Lance hugged her gently.

"We need to get Beast," Scott urged them forward, bringing the students surging up into the sunlight finally.

Meanwhile, down below, Logan held tight to Carnal's hand as she whimpered softly. He'd broken the shackles holding her down, and wrapped her as gently as he could in the bloodied surgical sheets. When Storm swept into the room, he looked up, more stricken than she had ever seen. She brought with her a cool breath of air, stirring the stagnant coppery stench.

"She's trying to heal herself," Storm breathed quietly as she skated her fingertips over the girl's feverish brow. "Can we move her?"

"Do we have a choice?" Logan grunted. He felt like he was the bad guy suddenly. "Where's Hank?"

Ororo shook her head slightly. Hank was still topside, aboard the Blackbird. Grinding his teeth, Logan wrapped the supine girl tighter into the cloth, fighting to ignore her squeak of pain. Storm remained stroking her hair, and forehead, trying to keep Carnal calm. Her eyes opening once, golden orbs rolling around frantically in her head. In one motion, Logan scooped her up.

"Don't you give up on me, girl," he growled under his breath. "We still got things to do."

* * *

"They're bringing her," Jean murmured quietly. The X-Men, and Brotherhood were all gathered at the base of the boarding ramp. Hank was prepping another of the med-bays in the Blackbird. Inside, Sabretooth's broken jaw had already healed, along with his cracked ribs and fractured hand. He sat subdued, slumped forward with his elbows on his knees, and his hands clasped loosely. The world seemed to move around him, while he waited for the Prophet to open her eyes.

He barely looked up when Logan came in bearing a bloody-smelling bundle. He listened to the amazed utterances, and the quick work of the Beast, and only when he was sure they were all occupied, did he venture a hand to brush against Kylie's arm. The corners of her lips turned into a smile, but she never opened her eyes. Creed left his hand there, loosely on her arm.

"Let our truce continue," Xavier was saying close by. "The Brotherhood is welcome to ride home with us."

"Yeah," Lance murmured. "Yeah, we'd like that."

Creed became aware of another figure by his side. Glancing down, he saw Toad crouched by him. The teenager never raised his head or met his eyes, he only reached up and dared to pat Kylie's hair gently. With his eyes still averted, Todd Tolensky offered a pale smile, and hopped out of the way. Creed remained like a rock while around him the teenagers all got settled. At the med-bay berth beside Kylie's, Logan hung back from the scene.

"Runt." Creed knew how to get his attention. As the other feral turned to him, Creed made a small gesture with his chin, indicating the girl in the berth. "Didja get him?"

Logan waited a few moments, while Summers cruised by toward the cockpit. The kid would get them all home safely, he was sure of it. Finally, he shook his head. "Essex got away."

Creed grunted in reply, his hand automatically curling loosely around Kylie's wrist. He didn't bait Logan any further, choosing to keep the tenuous peace that existed in the jet. If Essex was still out there, Kylie still needed him. If Kylie still needed him, he still had a promise to keep. Reaching up with his other hand, he smoothed her thick curls away from her face.

Xavier paused beside him, on his way toward the cockpit. Creed paid him no attention, even after Xavier reached out to lay a hand upon his arm.

"You are welcome to stay, for as long as her recovery takes."

Sabretooth lowered his head, but didn't answer. Xavier wheeled a few feet further, and glanced back through the body of the jet. He wanted to soothe the worry, unravel the anxiety, but he knew that he shouldn't. With a soft sigh, he turned back into the cockpit, where Scott was firing up the jet's engine. Home seemed so far away.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for the patience! Revision 30 seems to be the one I'm most happy with, so... here it is! Separate epilogues to conclude each story, and then, it's whatever the muses say for the future! Enjoy, and thank you. ~S


	9. Chapter 9

Epilogue

"Maybe we're approaching this all wrong." Scott looked up from the books spread across the table to check on Logan's reaction. Scott called it his 'independent study' course at school. When Logan only fixed him with a stare, Scott cleared his throat and continued. "I mean, the autism angle."

He pointed at a book before him, and leaned slightly closer to read the passage. "Autism is distinguished not by a single symptom, but by a characteristic triad of symptoms: impairments in social interaction; impairments in communication; and restricted interests and repetitive behavior."

"Yeah, that rather sounds like her..." Logan's voice held a note of disappointment.

"No, it doesn't." Scott stressed again. "You said yourself she picked out the social hierarchy of the house just from photographs. She interacts perfectly fine with the rest of us, even if she doesn't -say- anything. And it's not like she fixates on one thing, ever. If anything, she's interested in everything." He groaned softly and pushed the books away. "Besides, Dr. McCoy managed to get her father to release all his medical records to us."

Logan looked up sharply at that. His eyes narrowed. No one had told him that. "And...?"

"And the only thing strange in her history is that she had multiple sclerosis as a child."

Logan furrowed his brow. That explained the wheelchair present in the drawing, but it helped with little else. MS was a neurological disease, not something that could be combated easily. He stared hard at Scott while he tried to wrap his brain around that. And finally, much to the teens relief, Logan stood and left the library without another word. Unleashing a sigh, Scott began to systematically close the books, and return them to their proper shelves.

Logan meanwhile, stalked the halls of the mansion, heading straight for the lower levels where Hank kept his science lab. He didn't bother knocking; it just wasn't his style. Instead, he opened the door and walked right in. Hank was hanging from one of the pipes on the ceiling, reading from a thick binder. Wolverine stood quietly and waited.

"Oh! Logan!" With a laugh, and a twist, the Beast was back on the floor, smiling broadly. "I was getting ready to find you!"

"Really?" Crossing his arms over his chest, Logan raised a brow and managed to make Hank feel sheepish. "Ol' One-Eye said you'd gotten Lex's file."

"Mmmm..." Hank flipped a few pages in the file and offered it to Logan. "From what I can tell, Essex was using Alexia as a guinea pig of sorts." He trailed off as Logan looked up from the file. "I mean, he was experimenting on her. Apparently, he actually triggered her X-gene with some manner of virus, in the hopes that it would stave off the ravages of MS."

Logan lowered the file. "So you're telling me, that freakshow _did _it all on purpose." To Beast's mute nod, Wolverine tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. He needed to control his rage right now, there was no one around to turn it against constructively. Breathing carefully, he finally looked at Hank again. The poor blue Beast seemed spooked.

"Okay, let me ask this: her mutant power, what did you call it?"

"True adaptive analogous metamorphosis," Beast supplied in the momentary silence.

"That. Yeah. Could it affect her brain too?"

Hank reached out to take the file back from Logan. Flipping through a few pages, he mulled the prospects over. "I suppose it could. Yes. Exposure to certain stimuli could affect the way her brain adapts."

To his surprise, Logan no only smiled, but he beamed. Clasping Hank on the shoulder, Logan patted his back warmly. "Exactly what I wanted to hear."

Without explaining, Logan turned and left Hank bewildered.

He found Xavier working with Jean no less than ten minutes later. Instead of interrupting, Logan lingered outside the door, waiting for their session to be over with. Jean needed the quiet and the control that Xavier helped impart on her. He'd seen the few times that Jean'd let loose, and it had never been pretty. He didn't like the idea of being on the receiving end of that ever again.

Unable to wait patiently, Logan paced up and down the hallway until he felt the little nudge at the back of his mind that told him they were waiting for him. Pushing his way into the room, he saw Jean causally push her hair back over her shoulder. She was sweating, obviously tired, but she managed a smile for him. Out of habit, Logan tipped his head, and touched an imaginary hat in response.

"Chuck, I think I figured it out." Logan wasn't one to beat around the bush. He got straight down to business whenever something was on his mind. "Lexie.. Carnal. You don't get any human thoughts because she's still relearning how to think like one. She's not autistic, or messed up... or even stupid. It's just how she copes."

Both Jean and Xavier gave him a momentary blank look. Something passed silently between the two of them. Logan wanted to bet it had to do with his sanity. Xavier steepled his fingers before him, and took a deep breath. "Explain further, Logan. I'm not quite sure I understand what you're saying."

"She shapeshifts. But not voluntarily all the time. What if her brain shifted connections to deal with being treated like an animal?"

It made sense to Jean. The proverbial lightbulb came on over her head, and she gasped softly. "Who wouldn't want to shut off their higher functions, treated like she was? Oh, Professor, if you could have seen how we found her... that circus... those cages." Jean suppressed a shudder, and shook her head, unwilling to relive the experience herself.

"Exactly." Logan stated. He was awfully proud of himself, putting all the pieces together like that. "So all we need to do is keep treating her like a person... and she'll come around."

Xavier seemed to mull it over. Finally he nodded. "I trust you, Logan. I hope, for your sake, that this is the truth."

* * *

They had taken her friend away weeks ago. She didn't feel bereft; she had plenty of new friends to surround herself with. But when that one was near, she smelled of old memories, and half-forgotten laughter. She missed her already. At times that nostalgia waned, being replaced by warm wonder, and cool green thoughts. She listened, always. To everything, that was around her. Even lying out on the grass, under the warm August sun, she listened to the girls chat away.

Kitty was waxing poetic about some event happening tomorrow in the night sky. Rogue was trying to ignore her, and concentrate on the magazine held before her. Jean, her pale skin, and fiery red hair, accented by the colors of the bikini she wore, listened intently. Amara, the only girl left of the New Mutants, agreed with Kitty, that the event should be a whole-school one.

While the other girls lay out on reclining chairs, Alexia stretched out in the grass. This spot was freshly mown, and smelled of nothing but clean freedom. In fact, she could hear the riding mower as it made its way around the grounds, driven by the skillful hand of Logan. She would chase him later. Right now, it was fun to listen to the girls.

"We'll get blankets and pillows, and have snacks. No fire though, we totally won't see anything if there's too much light." Kitty's excitement was hard to contain; she clapped her hands together.

"We'll make sure the mansion is dark too," Jean agreed. "It'll be fun!"

"About as much fun as gettin' teeth pulled," Rogue muttered, sourly.

Alexia rolled from her back to her side, to tilt her head curiously at Rogue. She smelled like licorice, this one did. Sharp and spicy. Alexia knew from experience that she didn't like to be touched, so she twisted onto her other side, and extended a hand toward Kitty. Just as she always did, Kitty gave her a light tug, urging her up to sit on the edge of the patio chair with her.

"We should get Mr. Logan to watch with us," Kitty said quietly, reaching out to pull all of Alexia's hair back. "I bet you'd enjoy it, Lexie. Meteorites zipping across the sky. It's amazing."

With her back to Kitty, Alexia couldn't make the right face to answer, so she nodded slightly. Kitty wouldn't know if it was in reply to her actual words, or the excited tone of her voice. Carefully parting Alexia's thick black hair into three ropes, Kitty started to French braid it for her. It was a ritual for them, something comfortable that both of them enjoyed. Kitty hoped one day to teach Alexia how to braid as well, so the favor could be returned. Quietly, for the rest of the evening, Kitty plotted with her friends on what would be the fabulous Perseid get-together.

* * *

Logan had long preferred naps to an actual good nights sleep. Any time longer than two hours asleep invited nightmares of formless pain and shapeless terror. So when Half-Pint proposed to him the star-watching prospect, he agreed. He knew he would likely be up at that hour anyway. He had settled down for his late afternoon nap, leaving his door slightly ajar as he slowly became accustomed to doing. However, two hours had turned into three, as his internal clock didn't automatically wake him up. By the time he was supposed to meet the kids on the lawn, he was in the grips of night-terrors so savage they wouldn't release him.

Unable to bring herself to join the kids outside, Alexia hovered uncertainly by Logan's door. He left it ajar for her; he always did. Her favorite sleeping place was in his room, no matter how often, or how hard the others coaxed her into her own room. She was paused mid-push, having raised her hand to slide his door open just slightly more. His silent fear was a heady musk, making her feel dizzy and uncertain. His breathing rasped in his throat, but even in his terror he refused to cry out.

She crept across the carpet, her bare feet silent on the plush fabric. Alexia knew that fear would always bring out the worst in someone. But she also yearned to watch the stars. Logan's balcony doors were closed against the night; the front and back of the big house were likewise all locked up. Knobs still gave her difficulties; sometimes her hands simply refused to change enough to grip one. In his bed, Logan snarled, kicking the tangled blankets free from his legs.

Alexia dropped to all fours, and then froze instinctively. Her ploy seemed to work, for a few moments later, Logan's movement and unrest settled back down into an easier repose. Breathing deeply, she crept to the balcony door and peered out into the dark, moonless night. She reached out and found the handle for the balcony door, but hesitated before opening it. Turning back to the room, she straightened up, felt her legs and her back tense up with a dull ache. The pain soon passed though, as it always did, her body knit itself back together without being told how to. With a deep, steadying breath, she found herself a place to sit, directly on the edge of the bed.

Logan stirred as her weight settled beside him. He grumbled intelligibly in his sleep, and curled his fingers into a tight fist. Most normal people would have already walked away. But Alexia did not fear anything that Logan could do to her. She reached out, hesitated, her hand hovering above his bare, sweat-soaked chest. Finally, she touched him.

Beneath her hand, his heart raced. She splayed her fingers out against his chest, and gave him a little shake. Logan's face contorted in what appeared to be agony, causing her to yank her hand back quickly. Untouched once more, Logan's face eased, though his brow knit and his eyes squeezed shut. After a few moments, Alexia tried again.

She replaced her hand against his chest, but instead of shaking him, she leaned closer to him. Wetting her lips, and swallowing a lump of worry, she struggled to find the sounds she needed. She was smart; she understood things they didn't believe she could. The more they spoke to her, the more she remembered. Her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, before finding the first, hesitant syllable.

"Lo..." He didn't move; he didn't even stir this time. His heart still raced beneath her hand; his eyes moved rapidly beneath tightly squeezed lids. Alexia's mind raced for the second part of his name, her lips tried a few faulty configurations before figuring it out once more. She took a deep breath, and started from the beginning.

"Lo... gan?"

He stirred this time in response, causing her to smile. Finally, she gave his chest a light shake, repeating his name for a third time. Logan let out a groan that seemed to rise from the soles of his feet straight through his core. Both hands rose from the twisted bedding to cover his face. Amazingly, there was no startling awake this time; the process was slow, as though he were crawling through a morass. When he finally opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Carnal smiling at him in the dark. Even more surprising was the fact that she was actually touching him. The palm of her hand was warm and steady against his chest.

She'd never initiated contact before. Did she see herself rising in the social hierarchy of the Mansion? Or perhaps, this was something different. He tried to blink sleep from his eyes, but he didn't want to move any further, to risk breaking the contact. She withdrew of her own accord though, lifting her hand fully from his chest before sliding it back into her own lap. For a moment, she wouldn't meet his gaze; instead waiting for him to sit up, and stretch.

Finally, she gave him a pointed glance, before turning her gaze to the balcony. Logan blinked.

"OH." Dragging himself out of bed, he grabbed for his shirt and jeans. He promised Half-Pint that he'd watch the meteor shower with them. And here he was, late! If Alexia hadn't woken him up... Wait. Alexia had woken him. He'd been sure in his sleep that he'd heard someone call his name. Lexie didn't speak, at least, not verbally.

The bed creaked quietly as Lexie stood up. In a few steps she had crossed the room to the balcony, and stood waiting patiently. But Logan hesitated, his shirt dangling from his fingertips. He watched her, studied her. After a few moments, she began to look concerned. He watched as she wet her lips, appearing thoughtful. And then it happened. What everyone else believed was impossible came true in a heartbeat.

She spoke his name.

It was clear as a bell. Unmistakable. Logan dropped his shirt out of shock, and leapt across the room to her. Without thinking, he scooped her up in his arms, and hugged her so hard he spun her around. After a moment, he released her, but still kept her within reach. Taking her face between his hands, he grinning broadly down at her confused expression.

"I knew you could, Lexie. I knew it!" He wanted to laugh, but felt his enthusiasm wane considerably when she pulled away from him. Her hand went back to the latch on the balcony door. Sobered suddenly, he retrieved his dropped shirt. Instead of heading to the balcony though, he pulled open the door to the hall. "C'mon. The stars won't wait..."


End file.
